While the words “conservationist” and “preservationist” are sometimes used interchangeably, they are different. Conservationists advocate for responsible and sustainable use of natural resources, while preservationists advocate no use. I fall into the former category. I have a profound respect for the resource, as I believe most anglers do. But I kill fish.

As a full-time captain, I spend the majority of my life underway, and I kill more than most. I’m not apologizing; it’s just the way it is. I don’t think I’m alone. All anglers kill fish. Even the folks who release everything inadvertently kill fish, but anglers don’t recklessly kill fish. If anything, it’s the opposite, but killing fish for sport puts me and other conservation-focused guides and anglers in a weird spot.

FALSE VIRTUE

Whenever I use of the word “conservationist” to describe myself, I feel a twinge of hypocrisy. As someone who spent decades promoting the conservation of marine resources, I have more than a few critics. And they aren’t shy about pointing out the contradiction.

It’s not unusual for me to have three yellowfin on deck thrashing wildly as I bleed-out, core and ice all three at once, their thumping tails throwing blood all over my face and spattering my arms. It’s hard to call yourself a conservationist when you have to scrub behind your ears, lest you show up to dinner with fish blood on the back of your neck. 

I don’t just love the chaos of fish hitting the deck — I thrive on it. It’s in those moments I feel most alive, the primitive, savage drive waking within me.

Inshore fishing is generally more civilized and mostly catch-and-release. That stoke you feel when you release a fish and watch it swim away is very real, because whether or not you intentionally kill something, you’re still acting out the hunt. Part of the enjoyment comes from knowing that the fish you hooked and fought is going to swim off to fight another day.

Despite spending decades advocating for conservation, I have fly-fishing and light-tackle colleagues who scoff at the killing I do offshore, or even inshore when a client takes home fish. Some of them seem unaware or unwilling to admit that one out of 11 striped bass released will die.

MORE ABUNDANCE

Recreational anglers use the least-efficient fishing methods. We don’t set traps, drag nets, deploy purse-seines or set out miles of baited hooks. We choose to make fishing more difficult by using light gear. We want a direct connection to the fish we fight. And if we’re really dumb, like me, we fly-fish.

Anglers need abundance. Removing fish from the population reduces opportunity. As terrible as this might sound, I need a lot of fish around so it’s easier to find and kill, or catch-and-release.

I wouldn’t have invested nine years of my life on the Mid Atlantic Fishery Management Council and another six as a legislative proxy on the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission — and pretty much my entire adult life in positions that sought to push a conservation agenda — if I didn’t actively hunt fish with the understanding that I needed abundance.

The ocean is an extraordinary place. I can hardly explain the awe I feel when a humpback lunge-feeds so close to the boat you can smell it’s breath; or being in the middle of a massive striper blitz; or seeing a giant tuna air out. It’s magic.

When you get the sort of enjoyment out of fishing that I do and eke out a living doing it, you get pissed off when you know something could be destroying a fishery or taking away access. When I was younger, I was the righteous do-gooder trying to protect marine resources from those terrible fishermen raping the oceans. I still think that, but I need fish in the water so I can get another crack at them, and take anglers out to play with them. The idea is to preserve and protect fisheries and habitat so we can catch more fish and, in many cases, kill them. Therein lies the paradox.

IN THE END

It’s easy to be a conservationist at a computer. If you spend time on the water, it’s a hell of a lot more difficult because even when releasing fish you will gut- or gill-hook a few. While I often say “crabs gotta eat too,” it doesn’t feel right. And if you’re a charter captain, even a light-tackle specialist, you’re going to get guys who want to take home a “limit.”

Occasionally my conscience gets to me, and I feel like I’m part of the problem, especially when clients want to kill everything. When you have enough yellowfin in the box to feed the neighborhood, you don’t need more. Things have gotten uncomfortable on my boat when I put the brakes on overindulgence.

Fishing is important to me, not just on a recreational or financial level, but existentially. It’s a large part of who I am. Fishing gives my life purpose and meaning. This is what ultimately led me into conservation and management of marine resources in the first place.

I’ve fished since I was old enough to hold a rod. What started with bluegills culminated in bluefin. Once I got into tuna fishing and became a full-time charter captain, the killing increased. Still, my goal has always been abundance, and I did my part in the trenches working for that. My motives were self-serving, yet I believe this made me and everyone else who shared my view a conservationist. Am I still a conservationist? I don’t know.

The concept of “no-targeting closures” to address discard mortality in the recreational striped bass fishery has me questioning if I really am a conservationist. If such closures go into effect, anglers could not legally target stripers for catch-and-release, which is important to my business and my life.

A tenet of the enlightened, self-interest conservation movement is that if we put the resource first, it will subsequently take care of us. I believe in science-based conservation. I don’t believe in measures that could take anglers off the water. I want what’s best for the fish but not if it means we can no longer put lines in the water. Without abundance, there’s no opportunity. Conservation is required to achieve abundance and, ultimately, access. When you take away any part of that equation, it all falls apart.