For the first time in my life I’m living near the sea. This morning we did our first swim in overcast conditions from 8:45am until about 10:15am at the famed ‘fossil beach’ in Beaumaris. My partner searched for sharks teeth. Last week she found a wonderful example but no such luck this time. I enjoyed some time swimming over nearshore temperate coral reef (some of our corals here are bright green) and found a Short-tailed Sea Slug. These are carnivorous relatives of snails and this particularly marvellous-looking species grows to about 10cm. Once we shook off the cold the sun came out and we moved to the pier at ‘The Cerberus’ where we you can most easily snorkel with seahorses in Melbourne.
Neither of these sites is in the marine park and while there are great things to see, what strikes you immediately, is the total lack of large resident reef fish. The situation is different in nearby Ricketts Point Marine Park. It’s a great demonstration of nature recovery and made me wonder, how do we connect a new generation of fishers with the opportunity to rebuild fish populations?
A fish only every 45 minutes
Apart from abundant small toadfish and tiny blennies, we hardly see any resident reef fish. During the first swim we saw two small Morwong … that’s one fish every 45 minutes. On the second swim we saw none whatsoever in about the same amount of time.
It’s strangely amusing to see people spearfishing in these places and even more, casting lines from boats and piers. When the irony is plain to see when snorkelling. In these places that would once have been abundant with life, there are no fish. None. Nada. Zilch. Rien.
A father was standing in waste deep water supervising his son with a new speargun. A huge and majestic eagle-ray sailed past. It’s not permitted to shoot any fish unless you intend to eat it. The toadfish are poisonous and it’s illegal to take any ray species within 400m of a pier (the pier is much closer).
So it’s hard to imagine what the experience was likely to teach the boy. Other than the fact that spearfishing is a pretty fruitless and boring pastime. It never used to be. Jon Neville talks about the 1960s when these areas were so abundant with fish, you couldn’t fail to catch one. Today the reefs are virtual dead-zones, dominated instead by abundant 11-arm sea stars, mussels and a thick layer of algal sediment. Anyone with a knowledge of ecology can see that the problem is the total lack of large animals.
What good are 95,000 fishing rods for kids?
Here is an actual Xwitter conversation I had with a conservationist last week. They called for ‘positive paths to hope’ but that’s certainly not what I saw on the face of that kid learning to fish. The poor boy spearfishing was being taught that fishing is hopeless. I don’t hear many people telling the real story about how there are no fish left.
TEACH A KID FISHING ! 95,000 little angler kits to Grade 5s in Victoria.
ME: Why not teach them birdwatching? Our coastal environments are largely fishless. It’s causing ecosystemHow ecosystems function An ecosystem is a community of lifeforms that interact in such an optimal way that how ecosystems function best, is when all components (including humans and other animals) can persist and live alongside each other for the longest time possible. Ecosystems are fuelled by the energy created by plants (primary producers) that convert the Sun's heat energy More collapse. Outside of marine parks it’s common to see more fishers than fish while snorkelling. That’s no joke!
Kids are constantly sad about environmental impacts they didn’t bring. We did. They need positive paths to hope & conservationWhy is animal conservation important? Animal conservation is important, because animals are the only mechanism to create biodiversity, which is the mechanism that creates a habitable planet for humans. Without animals, the energy from today’s plants (algae, trees, flowers etc) will eventually reach the atmosphere and ocean, much of it as carbon. The quantity of this plant-based waste is so More, not “It’s fecked”
ME: Absolutely my point. We need positive action to rebuild it. Teaching kids to fish in fishless water isn’t creating hope. What if they could be part of rebuilding? 95,000 rods doesn’t do that.
95,000 kids caring about fishing is investment in building caring about fishing and fish.
ME: I don’t doubt. But common fish now locally extinct weigh the same as malleefowl and are just as rare. Do we advocate hunting malleefowl because it helps connect kids to nature?
What common fish are you talking about ?
ME: All of them. Every slow-growing, large (up to several kilo) resident reef fish, almost exterminated from all coastal reefs, throughout the state and beyond.
Is there a resource data set for that?
ME: Most of the fish disappeared 70 years ago. We have interviews and some quantitative data. But modern datasets are largely recording a small fraction and no large fish.
Achieving balance among sea life
Yet there is still life to be seen. Albeit, this life that is better shot with a camera than a weapon. Despite the lack of overall fish life, this heavily-fished area remains one of the best places to snorkel with seahorses in Melbourne. We found five under the pier. Seeing a seahorse is one of life’s greatest rewards. Twenty minutes watching these gentile creatures was more thrilling than the following hour swimming over lifeless coastal reef.
At least by simply watching the seahorses the role those creatures play in restoring the balance is maintained. The enjoyment of seeing them and the importance they play in the ecosystem can be shared forever with other people.
It left me wondering. I came out of the water today feeling revived and alive. How did that young boy feel? What impact is it having on Melbourne’s people, to fish every day in a moribund ecosystem? How can we give nature the chance to restore itself? What are we missing out on if we don’t? How much better would we feel if we restored rather than eroded our priceless natural heritage?
Why we need more no-fish areas for everyone
I may not have seen many fish today but I know I can still snorkel inside Marine Park Ricketts Point and ogle at an abundance of reef fish starting to recover (even then, there are several species either gone, or down to only one individual and never likely to recover without help). But this protected zone is less than 5% of the bay.
One side of me thinks it’s unfair that we only get 5% of non-fished area to enjoy, when everyone else can kill all the fish, in 95% of the state. But the look on that boy’s face changed by mind. This tiny area exists for our welfare, in body, heart and mind. Almost every fishing vessel lines up each day along the park’s boundary because after 20 years of protection, it’s the only place left where there are any fish.
I count myself among the lucky few to know what’s out there and truly how to get the most from it. Every day we see fishers returning with fewer fish than we have 5-6 million year old fossil sharks teeth. Or, more fishers lined up on the pier, than we see fish in a two-hour swim.
Restoring past wonders
This new knowledge might just lead to a more healthy existence and forge a new path to fish and fishing. You might decide to take the not-so-drastic measures needed to allow Port Phillip Bay’s fish stocks to recover. Worldwide it’s been shown how fast this can happen. The best initiatives are being led by fishers themselves.
It’s simple enough to give fish stocks the time it takes to recover. It might mean you can’t fish today but then maybe, in your sons and daughter’s lifetimes, they might be able to go fishing like your parents did. They might have a better chance of catching a fish or even seeing one.
Meanwhile, try a snorkel with seahorses in Melbourne. Or take a swim in a marine park and see what you’re missing out on. Grab a camera instead of a rod and go out find somewhere that can show you what life could be like. Then make it your mission to restore it.
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