Invited to the Dance

By DEIRDRE FLEMING, Staff Writer

Copyright © 2002 Blethen Maine Newspapers Inc.

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Staff photo by John Ewing Alewives spend their lives in saltwater, but return to freshwater streams and ponds to spawn in large numbers. These fish were trapped during their migration and will provide bait for local lobstermen.

NOBLEBORO — The man who regulates the harvest of alewives at the Damariscotta Mills fish ladder is to the 200-year-old stone fishway what Buzz Caverly is to Baxter State Park. Like the longtime park director, this man has worked at the ancient fish ladder for decades, helping to oversee the rules around the alewife runs as those rules have changed, and serving as the historian of the ladder that has allowed alewife passage to Damariscotta Lake for centuries.

He is known to locals simply as "Frankie," but the watcher of the alewives, who carries yearly records of their numbers on a piece of paper in his wallet, offers his last name with a sly reminder.

"Slow dance," said Frank Waltz with a grin.

A fitting moniker. The fish ladder and the daily commotion around it resembles a waltz. Most everything about the ladder is old-fashioned; everything in the way the fish are harvested is measured and everything about the fish's migration run is full of a energy. That motion involves raptors and osprey that feed on the fish, lobstermen who show up to buy alewives for bait, spectators who come to see the fish run up the ladder, and, most of all, Waltz, who counts the fish and collects them to sell to fishermen.

The success of the alewives' spring migration from the ocean to their fresh water spawning ground is determined by their ability to run against the current up the 42-foot vertical ladder, which is where Waltz stands and counts them.

But the Great Salt Bay that the alewives pass through on their way to the ladder is also an integral part of the annual migration run. and It may soon be viewed with the same interest as the ladder. In March the Great Salt Bay was designated as a marine shellfish preserve, making the 512-acre bay the first such preserve in Maine.

The hope is that, through studies directed by the Department of Marine Resources, the function and structure of marine shellfish ecosystems may be better understood.

"Everyone is aware of the bay," said Mark Desmeules, an ecologist who is the director of the Damariscotta River Association, which owns 112 acres around the bay. "Every day that's what people talk about. 'Is the tide in or out? Are the alewives in the bay?' Everyday talk is related to the bay."

The Great Salt Bay Study Collaborative, a privately funded project, will involve a number of different groups interested in the bay, such as the river association, community representatives, scientists, biologists and shellfish harvesters. Smelting, striped bass fishing and taking of alewives during their annual migration to Damariscotta Lake will continue in the bay. But other species that little is known about — such as the horseshoe crab — will be be better understood, some for the first time.

"It's a keystone species for this Salt Bay ecosystem," DesMeules said.

According to the river association, a nonprofit conservation organization, the bay is one of the world's northernmost significant breeding sites of the horseshoe crab.

Last year the river association counted horseshoe crabs on the Damariscotta River for the first time, focusing on six different areas believed to be spawning habitat. The highest numbers were in the bay, especially at Damariscotta Mills, an area that produced the highest numbers in all of Maine, DesMeules said.

Within an area that was surveyed in the bay, as many as 100 crabs within a 20-meter area were counted. DesMeules said in other places in the state, there were only a half dozen in an area the same size.

DesMeules said while there is little is known about the critter, that should change in the coming years as the collaborative begins a study that will use sonar tags to follow their path through the water.

"A lot is anecdotal information. We know there is reproduction because we see the sheds," DesMeules said of the horseshoe crab "skins" that are cast off as the critter grows.

The horseshoe crab study needs additional funding and is reliant upon volunteer work, but DesMeules said it's too important not to succeed.

What makes the salt bay habitat unique is the fact its physical structure. It has a freshwater input, while the tidal saltwater pushes into the great basin twice a day. The unusual low salinity of the environment makes it ideal habitat for certain species, like horseshoe crabs and American oysters, while the circular shape allows for a strong flow of tidal water, DesMeules said.

"You look at the coast, it's sandy, gravely, the tidal zone is in a sheltered area," DesMeules said. "There are only about three to four sites (in Maine) where the horseshoe crab can prosper. Muscongus Bay is another."

What also makes the bay unique is the fact it has faced little human disturbance in more than 50 years.

The state closed the salt bay to shellfish harvesting in 1947 because of water pollution. Its undisturbed state makes it a perfect ecosystem to study, biologists say.

"We're hoping to use it as a control site, to see what other areas would have looked like if they were not disturbed," said Linda Schick, a researcher at the Darling Marine Center in Walpole.

History, preservation and conservation seem to be the cornerstones of the Damariscotta River area.

In 1998, the National Park Service listed the 12 prehistoric oyster shell middens on the National Register of Historic Places because the mountainous oyster debris heaps help to tell the tale of the ancient people who lived in the area 2,000 to 6,000 years ago. Two of the 12 middens have been listed since 1969.

Now the work that was begun this spring in the Great Salt Bay has focused attention on it. Two weeks ago about 50 volunteers gathered to clean it up the Great Salt Bay and remove trash and debris left from dilapidated smelting shacks. Former Newcastle selectman Mic Lebel, a member of the Great Salt Bay Study Collaborative, said 10,000 pounds of litter was picked up.

However, not everyone in the central Maine area is a fan to of the conservation efforts. Certainly, many of the lobstermen who come to buy alewives from the fish ladder would rather see more of the alewives sold as bait.

Ten years ago, an eight-year moratorium was implemented by the neighboring towns of Newcastle and Nobleboro forbidding the harvesting of alewives at the ladder. That moratorium was lifted last year, but Waltz harvests the alewives carefully, making sure the numbers racing through into Damariscotta Lake stay high, with as many as 200 passing into the lake every 10 minutes.

The alewife is in the same family as the herring and the shad and historically has been smoked or pickled and shipped around the world. In recent times, it has been sold as lobster bait, and only recently has a moratorium been implemented to help healthy numbers of the fish return.

While harvesting has continued, it's still not enough to please some lobstermen.

"Let the Friends of Alewives have them," said Douglas Simmons, a lobsterman from Coopers Mills, who came to videotape the alewife run two weeks ago. "There are plenty of alewives."

Lebel said protecting the alewives also helps to improve the biodiversity of the area, providing food for ospreys, eagles and other raptors.

"The run coincides with the nesting and hatching of the raptors," Lebel said.

Waltz said the fish came in on May 7 and for the first 10 days, he didn't touch a fish. Then, for an hour or so, he would open a small gate to let some of the fish heading to the ladder into the where the mechanical fish lift which corralled the fish into a metal container.

Waltz, at first, harvested a small number of fish on a day-to-day basis, with the first 10 bushels going to the widows of the town, in accordance with town custom dating back to 1807. At that time local legislation called for was passed appointing a three-person committee from Nobleboro and Newcastle to keep the passage open between Damariscotta River and the New River Stream.

"Me and the selectman decide. If we don't think enough are going there (we don't harvest). We work together. Otherwise, it wouldn't work," Waltz said. "We don't dip Saturday or Sunday. We let them go."

At the same time, Waltz has worked, literally, hand-in-hand with the lobstermen, calling on them to help him lift the trays of alewives he sells to them.

"Hey young fella'," he called to Scott Carver of Waldoboro, who came to buy alewives for lobster bait and aided Waltz in gathering the fish.

Carver, like many fishermen, said there is no better bait for lobsters than alewives. He'll freeze three trays to use at the start of next season. The rest he'll use right away, before it spoils.

Locals talk about the crowds that visit the ladder to watch the run. On a recent weekday about a dozen people of all ages came just to watch.

In the water on a cloudy day, the alewives look more like an oil slick, except at the ladder, where they can be seen bounding over rocks, making their way up the current. You hear about the people who cheering for them at the top, where they jump through a narrow passage into the lake. Clearly the fish have a following.

The lobstermen and tourists are not the only constant visitors at the ladder. The seagulls come to feast when the tide is low, and in the late afternoon there are great blue herons, ospreys and eagles that come to dine on the alewives waiting in the bay below the fish ladder.

Such are the kind of surprises found around the alewife ladder. More of the same may be found in the Great Salt Bay as more attention is paid to it.

Staff Writer Deirdre Fleming can be contacted at 791-6452 or at:

dfleming@pressherald.com

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