Prior to 1990, Maryland and Virginia compiled separate, incompatible crab indexes. Miller records the data along with water depth, temperature and salinity, as well as the tow’s beginning and end coordinates, in a spiral notebook whose reckonings will help determine how many crabs watermen like Morris will be permitted to harvest this year.īegun almost 30 years ago, the Blue Crab Winter Dredge Survey represents the most scientifically rigorous index of the Bay’s blue crab population. When they find what they’re looking for, they slide three mud-splotched blue crabs toward DNR fisheries biologist Shaun Miller, whose job it is to measure, weigh and determine the crabs’ gender before tossing them overboard. From their knees, Brown and Elliott, wearing insulated gloves, methodically sort through the aquatic mishmash: matted leaves, strands of widgeon grass, empty oyster shells, an upturned horseshoe crab, its spiky tail tilting like a broken mast, and small slimy creatures that cling to anything handy. It’s 27 degrees, but brisk northwest winds make it feel like 16. Waterman John Elliott and Heather Brown, a DNR natural resources manager, grab either end of the rig and empty its liner onto the dredge platform. Photo by Marty Legrand Photo by Marty Legrand There, his mate and two Maryland Department of Natural Resources (DNR) employees wait to receive it. As it is, he pauses briefly while raising the dredge, straining it of silt, before hoisting it onto the stern. If he lets out too much chain, it becomes a ponderous mudplow. If the towed dredge fills too quickly, it will skip on the bottom. He fills the dredge’s gullet, a rectangular metal basket lined with narrow mesh, for precisely one minute at a steady pace of about three knots. From the cockpit helm station, he adjusts his speed as the dredge’s six-foot-wide maw skims the soft bottom of Eastern Bay. The winch’s steel chain unspools noisily, shivering water, until it jerks to a halt at Morris’s command. After aligning Mydra Ann on the proper coordinates, he steps outside into a frigid February morning to deploy the boat’s big dredge. It’s a routine he’s honed, in one form or another, over four decades on the Bay. From the warmth of his workboat’s cabin, Roger Morris checks his GPS and begins the drill he’ll perform nearly 900 times this winter.
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