Lavon “Biscuit” Ames is proud of his lobstering heritage, going back to a great-great-grandfather whose sloop is at Old Mystic Seaport Museum in Connecticut.
Ames, 46, started fishing at 10, with four traps and a skiff in the harbor. Now his daughter, 10, and son, 7, are fishing a string of traps using the same skiff. “We should preserve the room [waters around Matinicus] for the true island people first,” he said.
But who are the true island people? Tad Miller, who owns homes on Matinicus and the mainland, said, “it’s a very complex issue. It’s a hard thing to explain to somebody on the outside.”
The issue of who lobsters in the waters around Matinicus Island, and, more importantly, who makes that decision, became a national news story after island lobsterman Vance Bunker allegedly pointed a .22 caliber gun at a man he had known for years, 41-year-old Chris Young, and shot him in the neck, reportedly in response to the cutting of traps belonging to Bunker’s son in law, Alan Miller. Suits seeking several million dollars have been filed in connection with the July 20 incident.
On September 17, a Knox County grand jury indicted Bunker on two counts of “elevated aggravated assault” in connection with the alleged shooting, and indicted Young on a charge of “criminal trespass” because he allegedly refused to leave Bunker’s boat. Bunker is free on bail with a court order to stay off Matinicus.
When island fishermen get together to discuss who fishes where, “it becomes very personal in a hurry,” said Miller, who married Julie Ames, a member of an established island family.
Fishermen have passed down “rights” to fish certain areas from generation to generation. “These are touchy things,” Miller said. “They’re not easy to talk about. For 50-plus years the island has operated on family heritage or who you’re connected to.”
Miller doesn’t see any quick remedy for Matinicus: “There’s not easy solutions to a lot of these questions.”
Ames said a tradition seems to be at risk. “Island people used to take care of themselves. Now with these lawsuits, they’re scared.”
Alan Miller moved to Matinicus from the mainland and although he married into an island family, other fishermen reportedly resented his fishing island waters. Cutting lines to traps has been an unlawful but traditional way to tell a fisherman he can’t fish there. Typically, it’s the final message after other communications fail to persuade a fisherman to move traps. A cut trap is a lost trap, and when numerous traps are cut, it’s an expensive lesson for the victim.
The shooting on the dock has left some Matinicus residents with hard feelings and has driven families apart, according to some fishermen who spoke privately about the incident. They said Alan Miller did what others had done before him, married an island woman, in this case Janan Bunker, and started fishing Matinicus as one of about 35 active fishermen.
But for whatever reasons, Alan Miller’s move to Matinicus didn’t sit well with others. “There’s been a lot of pressure, all up and down the coast. I don’t see that going away,” said Tad Miller. “It’s not just about catching lobsters. It’s a finite resource. I was brought up in an era of an open fishery, but things have changed.”
One fisherman said those who live most of the year on the mainland but come to Matinicus to fish are called “fuel-savers,” and there are about five people in that category. These fishermen are not really island residents, he said, but maintain a house for convenience.
Matinicus may have distinct problems but that doesn’t mean it should receive special treatment, a state official said.
“Matinicus doesn’t exist in a vacuum, and any regulatory or legislative change has to be viewed in the context of the whole coast,” said David Etnier, deputy commissioner of the Department of Marine Resources.
Etnier said that his department does not want to create exceptions to existing law. “It’s safe to say we are very hesitant about creating any more anomalies,” he said, referring to Monhegan and Swan’s Island, two places that already have authority to regulate their own lobster fishery. Etnier said those places are definitely anomalies.
No legislation on behalf of Matinicus is contemplated at this time, Etnier said. His department is taking a hands-off approach to Matinicus for now, although after the shooting the state ordered a two-week fishing ban, which was reduced to three days when fishermen challenged the ban in court, saying it was unfair to punish all of them.
Since a legislative act in 1998, Monhegan has a special conservation zone around the island where only Monhegan fishermen are allowed to fish. The law was a political response to tensions created by Friendship lobstermen fishing near Monhegan. Monhegan has an apprenticeship requirement and limited entry for new lobstermen, plus a limit of 300 traps per fisherman during its self-determined season.
Swan’s Island is open to fishermen from anywhere, but they must respect its 475-trap limit, Etnier said.
Nat Hussey, a Matinicus sternman and lawyer, said he attended an island meeting with Marine Resources Commissioner George LaPointe, to consider what action could be taken to resolve territorial disputes. “The commissioner said I’m not going to do it for you, so that put’s the onus on us to do it,” Hussey said.
Hussey said he expects there may be another meeting when survey cards are returned by lobstermen. For him, protecting and preserving the island fishery is way to keep producing quality local food in a small but vital community. He said it’s a world away from industrialized, processed food production that dominates the shelves in supermarkets.
For Tad Miller, Matinicus will always be a special place. “There’s a lot there to like,” he said. But “if we don’t take care of the fishing grounds, the community will cease to exist. There’s no doubt in my mind.”
Steve Cartwright is a freelance writer who lives in Waldoboro.