The fishing industry fuels this community.
Written by Hillary Richard
Which is the legal size of a Maine lobster carapace?
The legal minimum length is 3 ¼ inches. Lobsters under this length are called “shorts” and must be thrown back into the ocean. Minimum sizes are enforced to ensure that lobsters are mature enough to breed before they are harvested.
3 inches
4 inches
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6 inches
Respect for ocean shared by Maine lobstermen of all generations
It's a “short".
RETURN IT TO THE OCEAN.
Any lobster with a carapace, or body shell, over 5 inches long must be returned to the sea to protect breeders. Larger lobsters are capable of reproducing greater and healthier numbers of offspring.
A LOBSTER THIS LARGE CAN NOT BE KEPT.
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Minimum and maximum size requirements exist for lobsters caught in Maine; the minimum requirement is a length of 3 ¼ inches, and the maximum is a length of 5 inches. The size requirements are based on the length of the lobster’s carapace or body shell.
BAND IT,
It's a “KEEPER”.
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5 "
3 1/4 "
Maine lobstermen use a gauge to measure the carapace length of each lobster they catch to determine whether or not a lobster should be returned to the ocean. In some fisheries, only juvenile lobsters are returned. But here, there are stricter rules that require both undersized and oversized lobsters be released.
Lobster Gauge
BERTRUM BEAL
“Muriel E”
DOUGLAS WHITE
“Betty J”
GARY STROUT
“Triple H”
Heather
STROUT Thompson
“Gold Digger”
NATHAN Thompson
“Easy Money”
SPENCER Thompson
“Maxed Out”
They’re doing what they can to preserve the environment that gives them so much.
Four days a week, Heather Strout Thompson, 47, takes off in her 36-foot Wayne Beal fishing vessel to tend her 800 traps with a fellow female lobsterman at the stern. Heather started fishing when she was 10 years old. By the age of 28, she was the captain of her own boat. Where she comes from, this isn’t unusual.
Heather is a fourth-generation lobster fisherman in Harrington, Maine. Some of her earliest memories are collecting rocks to weigh down the wooden traps her dad used and scraping barnacles off the wooden buoys by hand. Most of her family members, including her two sons, are professional fishermen. Her sister fished with her for 15 years on her stern. Heather has never had another job. Like many other people in her community, she doesn’t know who she would be without fishing.
“In all of these little communities, there’s a sense of pride when you say you’re a fisherman. People genuinely care,” she says. “If you need a hand or a part for your boat, it’s usually your competition — the fisherman next to you — who’s giving you that hand or helping you out.”
Gary Strout, 69, Heather’s father, agrees. “As a fisherman you are automatically put into a community. We basically all have similar stories and we all share a concern for our livelihood. Most of us have been fishing the waters in our own backyards for generations.”
Bertrum Beal, Heather’s great grandfather, pictured with a wooden lobster trap.
Preserving the lobster stock, as well as the general environment, is a core focus of the fishermen community. Maine has a legacy of strict laws to prevent overfishing, enacted by self-regulating fishermen in addition to government mandates developed in collaboration with the fishery. In 1872, Maine banned the catching of egg-bearing female lobsters. In 1895, the state established a minimum size requirement. In 1933, a maximum size limit was introduced to protect the larger breeding lobsters and lobsters at different stages of life, not just juveniles. As of 1948, fishermen were putting a V-notch in the tail of any egg-bearing female lobster to mark as “don’t catch” to others. In the 1960s, dragging the sea floor indiscriminately for lobsters was banned; only trap catching was allowed. As of 1979, all traps were required to have an escape hatch so smaller lobsters could escape.
Environmental protection
A young Nathan Thompson stands in front of “River Brat,” a small boat built by Gary Strout.
Gary Strout and Spencer Thompson are seen here in the “River Brat,” a boat Gary built for his grandson when he was 5 years old.
With fewer than 400 left, the North Atlantic right whale is another species that lobster fishermen in Maine’s waters need to consider.
“[We’re] trying to protect the ocean as a whole, not just lobsters. The majority of fishermen are doing what they can to protect what's keeping them alive,” says Heather.
Rules requiring lobstermen to change up their gear in order to prevent any potential right whale entanglements are continually being adopted. It’s not a new effort. Some rules have been in place for years, going back to the mid-90s.
For example, specialized “sinking” ropes helped lessen the potential for entanglements, as did putting more traps on fewer lines. Ropes now have breakaway weak links so that whales can power through them if they happen to encounter a line.
Despite fishing in 10 feet of water and never having seen a whale, Heather and her family follow the rules set forth for all lobster fishermen in Maine.
It takes lobsters about seven years to reach the size where they can be caught and sold. Protecting their numbers while keeping family fishermen in business is a delicate balance and long-term investment. It seems to be paying off.
Heather has seen more lobsters in her area (the Harrington River through Pleasant Bay) than she ever remembers.
“I was always taught if there was even the slightest imperfection on a female's tail, then you notch it again. Make it clear to the next guy that it's not to be kept,” says Nathan Thompson, 21. Nathan is Heather’s son. He has been a boat captain since he was 10 years old. “You throw them back in the water carefully with their backs down to make sure you protect as many eggs as possible. Little things add up over time to protect our future catch.”
There may be plenty of tradition in Maine lobster fishing, there’s also room for innovation. For example, ropeless fishing gear that relies on wireless signals is being developed and some fishermen are currently testing it out.
So far, viewing the environment as an ecosystem has worked well for Maine’s lobster industry. Since lobstermen helped create many of the laws, there isn’t the typical level of friction between environment and commerce found in other waters. People follow the rules out of a sense of respect and obligation, even if they don’t necessarily agree with them. But Maine’s waterways are part of a much larger system so they can’t act alone.
“The ocean is what’s giving us our living. So we’re going to be the first ones to step up and try to protect it, because that’s how we’re surviving. We need it,” says Heather.
Modern advancements
A sense of community
“If I had to guess, 90% of my community is in the fishing industry,” says Nathan. “The community is supported by the fishing industry. Everyone’s jobs are directly impacted by lobstering.”
There are typically 34 other small boats where Heather currently fishes. She hopes that future generations of small lobster fishermen will have the same opportunities. Much like his brother, Spencer Thompson, Heather’s oldest son, looks forward to instilling a love of lobster fishing into his children one day.
“I’m proud to be a part of something that’s been in my family for five generations,” says Spencer, 26. “I’ve loved hearing stories from my grandfathers about their experiences on the water over the years.”
One of Heather’s favorite parts of the job is learning everything through osmosis. Being out on the water helps people learn a variety of skill sets (like powers of observation, appreciation of nature, attention to detail, knowledge of mechanics and engines), according to Heather. But she’s also seen people learn the more nuanced aspects, like being a good neighbor by “helping lug gear down for an older gentleman who’s struggling.”
Originally named “Easy Money,” Heather grew up fishing on this boat. She ultimately bought it from her father and named it “Daddy’s Money,” an inside joke because people thought he gave it to her.
Spencer and Nathan Thompson head to a race on their boats, “Easy Money” and “Maxed Out.”
Four generations of the Strout Thompson family: (from left) Nathan, Gary, Heather, and Spencer with Brooks.
HARRINGTON, MAINE
Heather Strout Thompson's
Lobstering Port
More to consider
Five Generations of a Maine Lobstering Family
It’s tradition in the lobstering community to give your boat a unique name —something personal like a wife’s name, a hint at a story, or a joke. The Strouts have been doing exactly that through the years.
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Her son Nathan agrees. “I’ve learned to respect others and to work hard for something I want. How to dig deep and push through the difficult days,” he says.
As Heather put it, “There’s definitely more to the lobstering business than just trying to catch a lobster.”
CARAPACE
