Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, November 3, 1995 TAG: 9511030050
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: C-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: SCOTT HARPER LANDMARK NEWS SERVICE
DATELINE: URBANNA LENGTH: Medium
A handful of watermen woke before dawn Wednesday to begin harvesting what scientists believe are the last big spawning oysters left in Virginia waters.
Without these hardy survivors of disease and pollution, scientists warn, any chance of a natural recovery of once-prolific oysters in Virginia's part of the Chesapeake Bay is minimal at best.
Yet, with state approval, watermen set out Wednesday for a stretch of the Rappahannock River in search of a shred of income and opportunity. What they found in the dark-green waters, however, was more disappointment.
``What's here is real pretty,'' said Noah Carr, a lifelong waterman from Gloucester, pointing to a small, muddy pile of fat oysters that he and his son had collected. ``But there's not enough here to make a day's living. I doubt we'll be back even tomorrow.''
With so little to be gained, scientists and conservationists have questioned why the Virginia Marine Resources Commission decided to grant a limited season on these tenacious Rappahannock stocks.
The commission's own oyster restoration chief, Jim Wesson, argued against the special season, saying the scant population should be left alone in the hope that it will spawn and pass on its still-unexplained ability to stay alive.
``When you're continuing to mine away the last remnants of such a stock, that's clearly not a sensible thing to do,'' said Roger Mann, an oyster researcher at the Virginia Institute of Marine Science. Like Wesson, Mann recommended that the Rappahannock remain closed for a second straight year.
But the commission sided with watermen, who argued that the oysters probably would die anyway from the same devastating disease, known as MSX, that has virtually wiped out Virginia's oyster industry in the past decade.
``You're waiting for a dead man if you sit here and wait for these oysters to come back on their own,'' Ricky Owens, a Gloucester oysterman, said Wednesday when asked if he thought harvesting Rappahannock stocks was a wise idea.
A short boat ride back to shore, not far from the harvest grounds, the small town of Urbanna (population 450) was gearing up for a weekend invasion of some 60,000 tourists who make the annual Urbanna Oyster Festival a major event on the Middle Peninsula.
Once again this year, volunteer firefighters and Lion's Club boosters will be shucking, roasting and shoveling few local oysters. Most are imported from Louisiana and other Southern states, said Glen Pond, a festival organizer.
``We're looking forward to having some of our own oysters from the Rappahannock this year,'' Pond said Wednesday from his small office next door to the Urbanna Town Hall. ``But it doesn't make a lot of difference, really. We've had to go elsewhere for some time.''
As a last-minute conservation tool, the commission voted last month to pay watermen $22 a bushel for Rappahannock oysters. The oysters then would be planted at a nearby oyster bed, flagged with orange buoys to ward off possible looters.
But the watermen Wednesday scoffed at the offer, saying they hoped to get twice that amount from private buyers. According to the Virginia Marine Patrol, which closely monitored the harvest, no one took the state offer.
Marine Patrol Capt. Warner Rhodes, who manages the region, said he was not surprised at Wednesday's tiny haul. His officers reported that among 16 boats on the river, the largest catch was six bushels - worth about $300 at best.
Most boats took home just two or three bushels, Rhodes said, estimating that watermen probably would lose money for their hours of back-breaking hand-tonging of oysters from the river bottom.
Owens and his brother, Morris, said they likely were headed to the Potomac River, which has been open since October for harvesting. If they have no luck there, they'll probably try the James River, considered the most prolific waterway for baby oysters.
The youngsters, about the size of a human fingernail, can be sold to private oyster farmers who lease river bottom from the government and try to grow babies to their legal shell length of 3 inches. Most farmers are on the Potomac.
``I can't make it on this,'' Owens said, noting his Rappahannock catch of about four bushels. ``Everyone's all concerned about us oystering up here. Hell, we'll probably close this place ourselves in a couple days. Not enough's here.''
by CNB