The Horseshoe Crabs of Delaware Bay
I remember those first aerial survey flights we conducted in 1982. How the hub-shaped crabs lined the beach -- four deep, and miles across. How the birds, feasting on the bounty of horseshoe crab eggs seemed like a vibrant ribbon of life.
I can recall, thinking then, that the estimate I'd heard of 1.5 million crabs (later upped to 4 million) was severly undervalued. I recall, too, thinking that this was a real opportunity to set the figure right.
Opportunity, maybe. Opportune time, clearly not. Our New Jersey Audubon Survey team was overwhelmed simply trying to estimate the numbers of shorebirds present -- a total which registered about 1 million birds at its peak during the third week in May.
Sadly, an observer attempting to replicate our survey efforts in 1997 would have faced a less daunting task. This year, along the New Jersey coast, the ribbon of life had been abraded to frayed and broken strands. The numbers of crabs and birds reduced to a vestige.
Why? Overharvest of the crabs (this time for use as eel and conch bait) -- a perennial theme in the saga of man and his environment. How, you must be asking, could such a thing have been allowed to happen?
How could an internationally celebrated phenomenon...
That was thoroughly documented and whose global significance known...
That was witnessed, annually, by thousands of individuals...
That generated over $3,000,000 in tourist revenue...
That was actively studied and monitored by state agencies and NGOs...
That was under the protective jurisdiction of a New Jersey Fisheries Council whose job it is to prevent a natural resource from becoming depleted...
That had showed signs of decline half a decade ago...
Been allowed to go down so quickly and with so little done in time to stop it?
Because the social, administrative, and legislative process we rely upon is incapable of keeping pace with the environmental crisis we face.
That's how.
It's no more complicated than this, but no less sad, either.