When you stand on Stonington’s dock early in July, you can see the weathered boats leaving the harbor before most people have had their first cup of coffee. The bait is inserted, the trap lines are lowered, and somewhere beneath the greenish-gray water, Maine’s most valuable animal travels along the ocean floor, oblivious to its surroundings. The lobster is unable to detect the warming of the surrounding water. But for years, the lobstermen have been aware of this.
Approximately 99 percent of the world’s oceans are not warming as quickly as the Gulf of Maine. That is a documented trend that scientists have been monitoring with growing concern; it is not a projection. Every summer, tourists travel up Route 1 to see the shoreside postcard of crimson lobsters and checkered tablecloths, but behind that image lies an industry that is truly under pressure. People in coastal communities seem to experience it more intensely than the headline figures indicate; it’s a low-grade anxiety that permeates every fishing season.
Lobstering is more than just the biggest fishing industry in Maine. For more than a century, it has served as the foundation of the coastal economy and the cultural identity of numerous small towns. For every dollar paid at the boat, the industry generates three to five dollars in downstream economic activity through wholesalers, restaurants, retailers, and suppliers. It also contributes $339 million to the state economy each year, employing about 3,000 full-time lobstermen and another 2,500 working part-time. If you remove that, you are discussing more than just a fishery. Communities are what you are discussing.
It is easy to underestimate how complicated the situation is due to biology. A lobster grows by shedding its shell and forming a new, larger one, a process known as molting that usually occurs in midsummer, and it takes five to seven years to reach legal harvest size. However, the timing of the entire supply chain—from dock to dinner plate—seems to be being disrupted by warming waters pushing that molt earlier in the season. Additionally, studies have shown that in warmer climates, cold-blooded creatures like lobsters must expend more energy just to breathe, leaving less for development, immunity, and reproduction. The harvest data may not fully reflect the accumulation of years of subtle disruption to those biological rhythms.
Acidification of the ocean creates additional challenges. In addition to warming the water, carbon pollution acidifies it, making it more difficult for lobsters to absorb the calcium required to harden their shells after molting. Soft-shelled lobsters are vulnerable and under stress. Researchers have also found evidence that warmer sea temperatures are associated with more frequent molting in female lobsters, which raises concerns about the population’s long-term reproductive patterns. In the meantime, it seems that lobster populations are moving northward in search of the cold water that once defined their range. Although that change might temporarily relieve pressure on Maine, it is a gradual displacement rather than a solution.
As all of this was happening, it was difficult to ignore the fact that those who were most at risk had the least involvement in their creation. Coal-burning power plants, the majority of which are located far outside of New England, are the main source of carbon pollution that warms the Gulf of Maine. To put it simply, the cost of someone else’s energy choices is being borne by Maine’s lobstermen. The most effective legal tool for reducing carbon emissions from those plants is still the Clean Air Act, and how vigorously it is implemented will have a significant impact on a functioning waterfront thousands of miles away.
It’s still unclear whether there is the political will to meet the ecological urgency. However, the boats continue to leave, the traps continue to fall, and the water in the Gulf of Maine is slightly warmer than it was the previous year.
