The Edge

Time is different now that I've been on the water for a few years trying to make a living. The transitions between days, weather systems, and seasons are much different than before. I live within them and through them. Being on the water all the time makes for an endless summer in many respects, but the winters are harder. The summer lasts a long time because working keeps one warm and the bay is always beautiful. And then the winter months (January through March) are the tough ones when fingers hurt and there is much to do in short time – short because of day length and the frequency of poor weather or even worse, ice. Since working on the water I’ve felt that seasonal transitions occur in real time and I believe this is possible to experience only outside of an office, or sometimes referred to as the fattening pen. In real time there are no distinct margins of entry, there are no real thresholds, but I do notice change ever so subtly. Each day is different, yet often the same.

The oysters experience and behave differently. These things grow when the growing is good, get ready for sex, maybe have sex, then feed as much as possible until the temperatures decline to about 40 F when they go dormant and get covered up by silt. Their enemies (crabs and some snails) go away in winter too, so they just lie there and sleep. But they’re not completely safe because guys like me head out there with frozen fingers and lift them out of their slumber, sort them out, wash them, and sell them.

Guys like me continually watch the oysters. We study them throughout the winter months and ask ourselves questions like: Are they pumping (feeding) yet? Any new growth noticeable? Are the crabs getting them? And so on. When brief glimpses of nice weather begin to appear in February, and when the bay is thawing out a bit, we tend to look for signs of spring. Maybe we’ll see a few more hermit crabs, but nothing else really happens until March when maybe a flounder or an eel will show up. Slowly, then suddenly, the bay comes to life. In early April the crabs appear in numbers, the brown frown (brown algae) invades and becomes quite problematic, and some fish are visible. Also the gannets move in, as do the ospreys. Ducks start moving out. Fingers stop hurting (I think 40 F is the threshold). By late April (now) the whole thing is changing daily – more crabs, more birds, and more fish. Add in a catalyst, a couple of 90 degree days, and things start changing faster.

But the most fascinating thing about April, to me, is seeing that edge appear on the oyster. The edge begins in early April, very subtly, but it is recognizable; a few millimeters of new, white shell. Then within a few days it soars: a quarter of an inch almost overnight. Some oysters show it really well (see photos). This one particular oyster was a nice one but was too thin, or short, for the market last fall and was returned to the farm. I found it while wading yesterday morning on a good drainer. The new shell growth was phenomenal, not in its length, but in its shape and pattern.

I showed this oyster to Bill Bennett. He also marveled at it and said, while pointing out the length and curvature of the new growth, “That oyster is going to fill that whole void, that volume, in no time and keep growing out to a nice size!” But then we both looked at each other and realized that he was wrong. “No he isn’t, he’s going out on the truck,” I returned. And we both laughed for a bit. We’d love to watch them grow like this all year, but at some point they grow so large that you can’t sell them. As Skip often reminds me, “They don’t make good pets.” Or something like that.

The Zoo

The Bronx Zoo is actually a nice place to be. The humans, of course, can be hard to deal with, but they were ok. I have conflicting feelings about zoos, but that is for another time. This recent visit was nice and it will always be a good memory.

I felt like I connected somehow to this gorilla (above)...somehow. We both stared at each other for about two minutes. I wondered what his/her thoughts were. I assumed that I knew, but not sure.

Gyotaku

"Dude, check this out," Joel said as he removed the contents of a poster tube. His grin widened as the print unfurled between his hands. It was the Gar from the seafood show last month . It was nicely printed in blue and green.

Mission accomplished.

The Office

The office has a nice land view. But really, being able to process the oysters on the float saves time and sanity. This time of year there are few people around and it is often a solitary experience to be at the office. I find odd music to listen to while I cull, wash, then bag. Sometimes there are odd people to listen to too. As the weather warms over the spring there will be increased traffic and visitors who will come up and ask what we're doing there: "What are you people doing?!" "Working," is one reasonable response, but sometimes we remember to say, "Living the dream."

But it is not all beer and skittles. For instance, yesterday was wet and windy. Squall after squall moved from the south, bringing along with it 15-minute periods of 30 knot southerlies and big raindrops (which travel at least 30 knots into my face...faster if underway into it). On the boat this weather makes working somewhat challenging as things fall over, waves crash over the transom, and hauling the oysters gets a bit dangerous (what's the water temp?... 45 to 50 perhaps). Back at the office (the float) things are a more stable in these conditions, but moving crates and things from the boat to the office, and vice versa, I might look like Harold Lloyd trying to scale rooftops.

Right now the oysters are coming alive as evidenced by some nice new growth along the edges. Just in time. The bay is also alive with fish (flounder, smelt, alewife, and some stripers). Gannets diving, hungry gulls fly about, and my bare hands don't hurt anymore when in the water.

The Float

Last week the float went in. This, in effect, is our warm season office where much of the processing happens. Having the float saves an hour or two per day of lugging and transporting bushels onto trucks, etc.

We pushed it out to our mooring and returned to find Charlie White back at the ramp. Good timing: Alex returned his biofouled cell phone (see earlier story). He was glad to get it back.

A Grann Day

It has been a pretty long day, mostly on the water. The winds that hit us Monday and Tuesday set most of us back in oyster production so today was catch up time. This morning it was still blowing out of the north at a good clip (15 to 20) so Alex and I grabbed what we could under these conditions, with a coming tide. After some rapid processing on shore, and a couple of deliveries to the shop, we went back out for the remainder of the day - set up the float mooring and grabbed a lot of oysters for tomorrow.

We also listened to tunes (primarily WERS on the seemingly seawater-proof Dewalt boombox) told stories, gabbed a bit about friends and foes, and just took it all in. The wind screeched to a halt at 3:00 and everyone on the bay was able to enjoy it. Lots of sunshine and moderate temps. A good day.

The gulls were about and they seemed to be feeding on something in the water: diving and splashing. We figured they were after a polychaete worm hatch (mini sand worms that swim about to frolic and spawn). Also the razors are getting active on the flats and the gulls like them too. But maybe some smelt or herring are starting to show...probably not, maybe smelt, but anyway, they were onto something.

A change of gears: Last night Brooke informed me that our friend David Grann has published a new book called "The Lost City of Z" and that it has been on the NY Time bestseller list (we now have a copy). It turns out that B. Pitt will be producing and acting in the film adaptation very soon. Pretty cool. David is one of two younger brothers of one of Brooke's best friends, Alison. (Did I compose that last sentence correctly?). We all grew up in adjacent neighborhoods. Anyway, go read the book. I am going to start it tonight and looking forward to it....the story of an exploration for a lost city in Brazil in the 1920s.

But back to the bay: more of the same tomorrow. Then hopefully to frolicking and spawning...why should the worms have all the fun?

On the Farm

This past weekend was a doozy in many ways. But the best dooziness occurred on Saturday when my family and I visited our friends at Taylor Farm in Londonderry, VT. The Taylor Farm, located on Route 11 (not too far from downtown Londonderry), is a 500 or so acre dairy operation run by Jon Wright and his wonderful family. They keep on the order of about 100 dairy cows (Holsteins and New Jersey’s), milk them twice a day, and make Vermont’s best and only raw milk Gouda cheese. They produce several varieties including traditional, chipotle, smoked maple, caraway, nettle, and a prized aged Gouda, to name a few. They also keep draught horses, regular horses (I’m not a horse guy so I don’t know the terminologies), pigs, ducks, geese, and lots of chickens that squawk around and crank out eggs every day. Dogs, cats, bugs, birds, bees, ….what else? That might cover it.

I first met Jon Wright last year when my sister, Priscilla, and I took the kids for a tour around the valley between Stratton, Magic, and Bromley mountains. I had read about the Taylor Farm in a review in the Boston Globe the week before and being a farmer, and a cheesy kind of guy, I felt that this was probably going to be a good destination. Upon meeting Jon’s sister, Mimi, in their small, rustic retail shop, I knew we were in the right place. We bought all kinds of cheeses and goodies for the kids, then off on a one hour sleigh ride behind two cool draught horses. We stopped at a small Adirondack shelter out in a field somewhere where he started a fire for the kids so they could roast marshmallows and make samores. He provided hot cider and while the kids were toasting the solidified corn syrup the three of us ensued in conversations that spanned farming, oysters, global sustainability, and Vermont. In short, we had a great time with him out there. And afterward I promised to come back after he explained that they rent out their guest house throughout the year.

So I kept my promise. Last summer our family made the trip up to Londonderry and rented out the Wright’s guest house for a few days. We had an amazing time: the kids were off and running, helping with chores, exploring, and getting completely filthy with mud and manure. As promised, I brought a bag of oysters and it disappeared from sight within seconds. Last summer’s trip to the Taylor Farm was one of life’s best memories – especially because Max and Jane were so into it and not one second was devoted to any type of electronic device. I even got to fix some plumbing in the bathroom.

So last weekend we descended upon the farm again. This time with my brother-in-law, Chip (who you may have read about on this blog), and one of Jane’s friends, Katiana. The place was mobbed due to a kid’s birthday party (sleigh rides, etc.). But I managed to find Jon and spend a few minutes catching up. Unfortunately the visit witnessed the bad news that the Wright’s encountered over the winter. In February their dairy barn, a massive structure, collapsed under the asymmetrically-placed weight of the season’s snow during a nighttime wind event. Two cows were killed, the rest were rescued overnight (in bitter cold) by several members of Jon’s family and community. Even 6 weeks later they were still preparing the barn roof to be raised back up in several sections. It looked to be a monumental task. But Jon’s spirits were high and he had the help of his friends and neighbors. They’ll be fine I think. A large bash is planned for May to celebrate the restoration’s completion and I think I’ll go.

So we did our part and bought lots of cheese, milk, goodies for the kids, yarns, hats, and other stuff from Mimi in the shop. I presented Mimi with a bag of fresh oysters and this was received with a large smile. Then off we went, passing Mimi in the driveway running back to the shop with a lemon in her hand, “..for the oysters!”

Two more stops – a maple sugar shack and a woodworking joint. Great stuff. Then back to the house on the mountain.

Dinner was absolutely magnificent: oysters and cheese with wine for appetizing us, then steaks on the grill and some of Chip’s best side dishes to date. There was a berry pie from Taylor Farm for dessert. We ate, then put on the Who live at Kilburn (1977) on the high definition Jumbotron over the fireplace and carried on throughout the evening with the aid of Brooke’s brother Tom (who lives in the area) and our friends Lynn and Eric (from CT) who, by sheer coincidence were staying only a half mile from our place. As I watched Pete Townshend jump, jig, and jam I looked around and felt a distinct appreciation for life.

See how much fun it is to support local farms? Now back to the oysters… Now back to the real challenges.