Louis Martin's left hand gripped theoyster firmly, holding it against thestainless steel table. His right handquickly slipped the razor-sharpknife between the two shells.

"You have to be careful youdon't cut the oyster," said Martin, 70, ofBrinnon, "and you have to make sure youdon't cut your hands to pieces."

Martin quickly sliced the oystermuscles close to the shell, first one side, then

the other. He plopped the naked oyster intoa bucket.

Martin has worked for a lot of people.He's been an elementary school teacher, alogger, an equipment manufacturer. In 1980,at the age of 60, he took a job with HoodCanal Seafood, joining the ranks of morethan 2,000 people employed in Washington'sshellfish trade.

"I needed something to do," Martin

explained. "I would go crazy doing nothing."

Oysters make for a crazy business.Age-old techniques of knife-in-hand shucking form a partnership with ultra-modernprocedures, such as genetic engineering.

Statewide, it's a $25-million-a-yearbusiness, but oyster growers ally themselvesnot with industry, not with timber companies and certainly not with real estate firms.If anything, they're anti-growth.

Oyster farmers, in fact, have beencalled Washington's first environmentalists,advocating clean-water laws since the turn ofthe century.

Outside the building where Martin andtwo other shuckers were opening theiroysters, cold November rains ceased for thetime being. Martin's boss, Kirk Lakeness,prepared to transport a load of oysters to arestaurant in Port Townsend.

• 115 •

Chapter

8

Oysters

Section 1

To Protect

THE

Canal...and

Oysters

By ChristopherDunagan

A Flood Canal oysterstartsthetriptomarket.

116 • Using the Resource

More than

2,000peopleare employed

in

Washington'sshellfish trade.

It's a $25-million-a-year

business.

"We sell to San Francisco — all over,"said Lakeness, whose father started HoodCanal Seafood on the shores of Dabob Bayin1958.

By most standards, the company is asmall operation. Three shuckers togetheropen an average of 20gallons of oysters eachday.

At that rate, noted Lakeness, it wouldtake his company 15years to equal a singlemonth's production by Coast Oyster Company, which manages oyster beds in HoodCanal, Puget Sound and Willapa Bayon thePacific Coast.

In terms of nationwide oyster production, Washington state recently moved up tosecond place behind Louisiana, due mainlyto declines on the East Coast, principallyChesapeake Bay,and the Gulf Coast. In bothcases, the biggest problems are pollution.

In the best years, Hood Canal contributes little more than 10percent of thestatewide production of oysters, but it isfamous for its sweet-tastingQuilcenevariety.

Even more important are the microscopic baby oysters produced naturally inQuilcene Bayand shipped to oyster growersthroughout the United States. In addition tonatural production, the bay is home to theworld's largest oyster hatchery.

An estimated 75certified oysterfarmers are located throughout Hood Canalif you include all the small growers. Manyare centered on the natural spawninggrounds of Quilcene and Dabobbays.

Oyster Harvestsfor Washington State

and Hood Canal

Year

1979

1980

1981

1982

1983

1984

19851986

1987

1989

1990

In pounds

State

6.1 million5.5 million5.6 million

6.0 million

6.1 million

7.1 million5.9 million8.7 million

9.4 million

8.8 million7.8 million

%ofCanal harvest

309,000163,000186,000305,000419,000758,000 10.7770,000 13.1360,000448,000267,000402,000

5.1

3.0

3.3

5.1

6.9

4.1

4.8

3.0

5.2

Although Hood Canal harvest rarelyexceeds 10 percentof the state total,the canal does producehalf thecommercial oyster seedfor the entirenation. Hood Canal seed also is usedextensively in Puget Sound andWillapa Bay, the state's major oystergrowing regions.

"^msm^s^smsiiB^^^mmmm^t^wmsimm

In 1988,PacificOyster GrowersAssociation hired a contract lobbyist — a"hired gun" in the slang of political powerbrokers. Tim Smith had worked for insur

ance companies, local governments and realestate brokers.

"I didn't know the (oyster) industry atall when I came down from Alaska two

years ago," said Smith. "I thought my jobwould be in marketing. I took a month andstudied the industry. It became prettyevident to me right away that the problemwas not in sellingoysters.We can't supplyeveryone as it is. The challenges are inkeeping the growing areas open."

By 1984,when pollution struck HoodCanal for the first time, a dozen importantshellfishgrowing areas had already beenrestricted in other parts of Puget Sound dueto extreme levels of bacteria. Then came the

1984 closureof a portion of Quilcene Bay,followed three years later by closures inLynch Cove near Belfairand DosewallipsState Park. In 1988, tidelands near theDuckabush River also were closed.

Statewide, the Department of Ecologyestimates dollar losses in excess of $3 milliona year due to the closures.

Smith had never before worked for a

seafood business or an environmental

organization. Now, he says, he heads agroup that is both.

'Thafs the main issue, protectingwater quality."

An ancient pile ofshells found buriedat Seal RockCampground north of Brinnonoffers testimony that Native Americansgathered oysters from Hood Canal beachesbefore white people arrived.

Early settlers to the Puget Sound regionfound an abundance of Washington's nativeoyster, the Olympia. It wasn't long before acommercial trade developed, starting withthe California gold rush in 1849.

When the burgeoning trade depletedthe natural stocks, a few pioneers beganculturing Olympia oysters in Southern PugetSound, using a system of dikes. The dikeskept the sensitive oysters submerged and ata more constant temperature during freezingwinters and hot summers. But expansion ofthe industry was stymied because oystergrowers didn't own the land, and theycouldn't be assured of control over their

expensive dikes.

In 1890, one of the first acts of theWashington Legislaturealtered the future ofthe state's shorelines. Those first legislatorsagreed to sell state-owned tidelands to oystergrowers as long as they would continuecultivation.

Thus the state lost ownership of manyvaluable shorelines, but it also created apowerful advocate for clean water, saidSmith. The complexion of the industrychanged immediately and became differentfrom that of many East Coast states, whereoyster harvesters continue to compete withone another for the same shellfish.

"In the wild harvest fishery, whenpollution has degraded the water quality inan area, the fishermen all pack up, and it's arace to the next fishing area," he said. "Youlose that built-in environmental protection —that of the grower out defending his livelihood."

Despite those early efforts, the nativeOlympia oyster has all but disappearedtoday. The little oyster with excellent flavorturned out to be sensitive to environmental

changes and too small to compete on themarket with larger oyster species.

Beginning in 1905,Japanese oysterswere shipped across the ocean as smalladults. They could be fattened for market inPuget Sound, but natural reproduction wasnot very successful.

In 1919, a curious thing happened thataltered the course of oyster production. Ashipment of adult oysters died, yet the babyoysters attached to their shells were able tosurvive.

In time, shipping cases of shells withthese pinhead-sized "seed" oysters attachedbecame the standard method of transport. By1935, annual shipments from Japan to theWest Coast exceeded 71,000 two-bushelcases of shells. The oyster was named thePacific oyster.

About that time, growers discoveredthat consistent natural reproduction could beexpected in Quilcene and Dabob bays,though the oysters grew more slowly there.

Normally, an adult female releases upto 10 million eggs a year into the water. Amale can release 1,000times that manysperm. When fertilized, the eggs becomesfree-swimming larvae, moving with thecurrents.

After several weeks, the oyster larvaewill attach to rocks, shells and other solidobjects.

In Quilcene and Dabob bays, this "set"is successful about seven out of 10years,compared to just less than once in 20 yearsfor many areas of Puget Sound, said AlScholz,a biologist with the Point WhitneyShellfishLaboratory on the canal at Brinnon.

An oyster set is considered successfulwhen at least 10 baby oysters attach to anaverage shell placed in the water. Not allsurvive, however. The summer of 1990proved to be one of the most successful yearsin history on the canal, with more than 1,000oysters per shell. Warm, stable temperaturesalong with clean, calm waters are importantfactors, said Scholz.

The only other natural spawning areason the West Coast are Pendrell Sound in

British Columbia and Willapa Bay onWashington's coast.

Natural production from Quilcene Baybegan to spread Pacificoysters throughoutHood Canal beginning in 1935. And whenWorld War II broke out and Japaneseimports were cut off, local productionbecame crucial.

In the 1950s, PacificCoast OysterGrowers Association became a major force inreducing the poisons pouring out of pulpmills around Puget Sound. Beginning in1954, the organization orchestrated a statewide educational campaign involving sportsand fishing groups, local granges, resortowners and parent-teacher associations.

Groups such as Citizens for CleanWater allied themselves with the oystergrowers, while the paper industry foughtback with its own public relations effort. Butby 1960, when the state's Pollution Commission had begun tightening controls onindustrial effluent, it was already too late formany areas.

Sources of pollution today are becoming more difficult to identify, let aloneeliminate. In Hood Canal, pollution seems tocome from all directions — houses, farms,timberlands, even pleasure boats — thus thename "non-point pollution."

"A lot of us have moved into what

were vacation homes and summer homes

and fishing homes," said Teresa Barron,water quality planner for Jefferson County."Our grandads built these homes, and septicstandards weren't what they are today."

Geological conditions only make theproblem worse, since people built theirhomes and farms in valleys, where theground is flat and close to Hood Canal.

Oysters »n7

WashingtonState ranks

second in the

nation in

oysterproduction,

behind

Louisiana.

Pollution in

ChesapeakeBay has closed

many oysterproducing

areas.

118 • Using the Resource

Hood Canal

contributes

little more

than 10 percentof the

statewide

production ofoysters. But

Quilcene Bayis home to the

world's largestoyster

hatchery.

In Quilcene Bay, studies have shownthat septic pollution and poor animal-keeping practices are major contributors tobacterial pollution.

Allowing cattle and horses to drinkdirectly from streams makes it possible fortheir waste to get into the water and createpollution problems miles away, she said.

Another serious problem is sedimentunleashed during logging activities. Highlevels of sediment can smother baby oysters,a problem sometimes noted in Quilcene Bay.

At Dosewallips, bacterial pollutionseems to come from another source alto

gether. Near the Dosewallips Delta, wherehuman activities are minimal, seals seem tobe leaving a trail of waste that has contaminated the oysters and clams.

Nobody knows if waste from seals canactually make humans sick, as is the casewith human and livestock waste, saidGretchen Steiger, a biologist with CascadiaResearch Cooperative. But the state'scertification procedure demands closureanytime fecalbacteria counts are high.

Oyster growers are increasinglyworried about the effect of seals on their

Hood Canal beaches, since seal populationsmay be growing quickly, according toresearch by Cascadia Research.

As commercial fishing and timberindustries go into a decline in Hood Canal,the shellfish industry seems to be comingalive.

Shellfish production ranks high inemployment in both Mason and Jeffersoncounties. The demand for clams and oysters— especially from restaurants — is growing,and the future seems limited only by cleanwater.

"Here on the Olympic Peninsula, wehave so few industries to sustain our

economy," said Barron, the water qualityplanner. "As we use up our natural resources, people tend to look around toexpand their economic base."

What kind of industry comes to theregion will determine whether Hood Canal'sclean water can survive, she added.

"Aquaculture is a clean industry, andyou'd think it would be welcomed withopen arms."

While there isn't much controversyabout oysters growing scattered on a beach,waterfrontproperty owners have begun toraise protests against more intensive shellfishculture, such as stringing shells on linessuspended from floats.

In August 1990,the Kitsap Countycommissioners turned down a mussel-

farming proposal offMiseryPoint nearSeabeck. Neighbors said their main objectionwas that the operation would spoil theirview of the Olympic Mountains.

The commissioners also imposed amoratorium on all aquaculture, pendingapproval of the county's updated shorelinesmanagement plan.

Ifwaterfront property owners worryabout the impacts of shellfish growers,shellfish growers are even more concernedabout the arrival of more property owners.

"One of the factors that degrades thewater quality is shoreline development,"said Smith. "Also, as more people move in,we're going to hear more about aesthetics.Those issues are going to impact theindustry's future."

Gordon Hayes of Coast Oyster Company says new housing developmentsaround Hood Canal should attempt to avoidpollution, and old developments must beginto clean up problems.

"All of us in the industry see whathappens with population expansion," saidHayes. "Our industry is the canary in thecoal mine, but we're not just a prophet. Weactually make our living from this resource.

"If we were not here," he added, "thewater would become more polluted beforean alarm is sounded."

Homely Bivalve Becomes a Restaurant Favorite

Head thrown back, mouth open, adiner at Ray's Boathouse on Seattle'sShilshole Bay slurps a raw oyster

directly from its shell.To an oyster lover, there's nothing

quite like the fresh taste of the bivalve inthe raw. Ifs as if you're ingesting a bit oflife's primal matter, tasting the oceanitself.

Wayne Ludvigsen, executivechefatRay's, says raw oysters have grown inpopularity over the past five years. Henow sells 200-250 dozen oysters eachweek. Fanciersgladly pay $5.95 or morefor a plate of sixof these briny gems.

Ray's serves the tiny, distinctiveOlympia oysters as well as Pacifies fromthree different parts of the state —Hamma Hamma on Hood Canal,Shoalwater Bay on the Southwest Coastand RaceLagoon offWhidbey Island.

Likewine grapes, oysters take onthe qualitiesof their growing conditions,as Fred Brackand Tina Bellpoint out intheir book, "The Tastes of Washington."Selecting them, particularly for eatingraw, is as much an individual preferenceas choosing a wine.

The Hood Canal bivalves are "yourclassicoyster," says Ludvigsen. "They'renot necessarilyvery sweet, and they don'thave a beautiful shell. But they're a good,

solid, healthy oyster with a strong oysterflavor."

Hood Canal oysters come back fromthe summer off-season earlier than the

other types, he adds.Although he'll pan fry oysters and

make the occasional oyster stew,Ludvigsensays he's a real proponent ofeating them raw. "We're purists," he says.

Tim Smith, executive director of thePacificCoast Oyster Growers Association,says half-shell consumption is on theincrease across the country.

"Oysterbars are popping upeverywhere," he says. "We've seen adramatic decrease in liquor consumptionover the past few years, and my owntheory is that bars and restaurants are outlooking for a high-margin item to compensate for lost liquor revenues."

Kim Baxter,manager of the HammaHamma Oyster Co., says he can't keep upwith the demand for oysters. He suppliesseveral posh Seattlerestaurants in addition to Ray's —Fullers in the SheratonHotel, Le Tastevin and Anthony'sHomeports.

"Our oysters are prized for theirclean, crisp flavor," he says. 'They'reslow-growingin clear water, so theynever have a muddy taste."

ByAnn Strosnider

Oysters • 229

The demand

for clams andoysters —

especially fromrestaurants —

is growing, andthe future

seems limited

only by cleanwater.

120 • Using the Resource

Section 2

Where

Genetics

and Luck

Meet

By ChristopherDimngaii

Rowupon row of gleaming whitetanks, each containing 5,000gallons of greenish algae, mightmake one wonder what this

strange laboratory near Quilcenehas to do with raising oysters.

After all, tough-skinned oyster farmershave been putting shells out on their beachesfor centuries. Nobody's ever needed halogenlights or giant flasks of strange-lookingliquid with air bubbling through them.

But times have changed, and this iswhere the modern world of genetics blendswith the old-fashioned, keep-your-fingers-crossed world of oyster growing.

Coast Oyster Co., which owns this

Coast OysterCo.has madea scienceofraising youngoysters. They feed onalgaegrown in these jars.

hatchery on the shores of Quilcene Bay, leadsthe world in the production of oyster seed.The company ships 20 billion baby oysters togrowers throughout the nation in the form offree-swimming larvae.

"In fact," says president GordonHayes, "the second biggest hatchery is inOregon, and it produces just 10-20 percent ofours."

The key to the operation is the carefullyguarded brood stock, which produce thesperm and eggs for the big Pacificoysters,the tasty Kumomoto variety and the succulent Belon or European flat oyster.

The oysters eat an incredible amount ofalgae, which is grown under bright lights in

tanks, some of which are 10 feet tall.Temperatures in tanks containing the

brood stock are maintained to simulate ideal

spawning conditions. When the time is right,free-swimmingoyster larvae are filtered out,packed and quickly shipped out, or elsethey're allowed to set on oyster shells.

The oyster seed can be grown on justabout any beach where thetides won't carry the shellsaway.

Maintaining excellentbrood stock is one thing, buta true scientificbreakthroughcame five years ago whenCoast Oyster, in conjunctionwith University of Washington scientists, developed asexless oyster — the seedlessgrape of the oyster world.

Unlike most oysters,which become puny andwatery as they use theirenergy to create sperm andeggs, the trademark "Four-Season Oyster" skips thespawning season altogether.

Forget the old sayingabout not eating oystersduring months that lack an"R" in their name. These

oysters are firm at all times ofthe year, which gives thecompany a foot up on thesummer market, previouslydominated by frozen oysters.

The idea for a neutered

oyster came from Hayes'father, the late Vern Hayes, who got the ideafrom a magazine article about a neuteredsalmon that grows faster but never returnshome to spawn.

Hayes was a dominant force in theoyster industry beginning in 1947when hestarted Coast Oyster. In 1974, he built ahatchery at Willapa Bay, then moved theoperation to Quilcene in 1978.

To get a neutered oyster, the egg is"shocked" with a special chemical.Shockingprevents the egg from dividing just beforethe genetic material from the sperm combineswith the genetic materialfrom the egg.As a result, two sets of chromosomes fromthe female and one from the male result in a

sterile "triploid" oyster, normal in all otherways.

Kenneth Chew, a shellfish biologist atthe University of Washington, says thetriploid oyster has found a specific marketniche,but the growing demand for oysterson both East and West coasts creates an even

bigger challenge for the industry."We have to look at new and innova

tive methods of growing them," he says.According to Chew, at

least 90percent of the oysterstoday are grown right on thebeach, as they have been forthe past 100years. Butoysters also can be grown onstakes or on racks when

wave action or a muddybottom would threaten the

oysters' survival.A more intensive

method is to grow oysters onstrings hanging from racks orrafts.

These are not actuallynew methods, noted Chew,because they have been usedin Japan for decades, butresearchers are attempting todevelop even more advancedtechniques to grow moreoysters with limited space.As more areas are closed

because of pollution, oystergrowers are likely to investmore and more money inthese alternative methods.

Meanwhile, researchersare attempting to growstrains of oysters that are

resistant to temperature changes, that growfasterand are more uniformlyshaped andthat have good color,flavorand appearance.Hybrid oysters, which combine the characteristics of two or more varieties, also are onthe drawing boards.

Sincehatchery success depends somuch on what oysters are fed in the tanks,researchersare studying oyster nutrition anddeveloping new strains of algae as well.

And growers seem willing to meet thechallenge of a growing market. Despite tried-and-true methods of oyster farming, a 1984survey of the state's oyster growers revealedthat 40percent would try new techniquessuch as as artificialsetting tanks, moreintensive rearing methods and use of hybridstrains.

Quilcene Bay

Although closedbecause ofbacterial

pollution at thenorth end,

Quilcene Bay is thecenter ofHoodCanal's oyster

industry, includingCoast Oyster

Company's oysterhatchery.

Oysters *121

"Here on the

OlympicPeninsula, wehave so fewindustries to

sustain our

economy.

Aquaculture isa clean

industry, andyou'd think it

would be

welcomed with

open arms."— Teresa Barron

122 • Using the Resource

Section 3

TlDELANDS

Tug'o'War

By Jim Rothgeb

harlie Trevathan stands over his

set net just off the sandy beachnorth of Boston Spit andhunches his shoulders againstthe wind blowing off PortGamble Bay.

It's a cold wind, signaling the approaching winter and the end of anotherfishing season. On this day he hopes his netswill snag coho and chum but he knows thefish he catches now are mostly scraggly. Thesalmon harvest is nearly done.

It's time to think about securing hisboat and gathering his nets to preparehimself for the traditional shellfish season.

Winter tides on Hood Canal are more suited

for shellfish digging, and for most young

George Llsnick, who lives onMisery PointnearSeabeck, is a strong spokesman for therights ofprivate waterfront owners.

men in the S'Klallam Tribe of Little Boston

and Port Gamble Bay,shellfishing is a familytradition.

"My mom used to dig a lot," saidTrevathan. "I always knew it was one ofthose resources where a guy could go outand make money. I remember digging fromwhen I was a kid, and when I came backhere about eight years ago, I started doing itagain."

He's lived in Tennessee and California,but Trevathan's roots are with the

S'Klallams. He and his wife, Mary, bothharvest shellfish, selling them to wholesalebuyers, to help provide for care of the ninepeople living in their home.

"I think it's fun," said Trevathan. "You

can go out and spend three to four hoursdigging and be tired the next day. But youcan make enough for grocery money andyou eat well."

On Hood Canal, two tribes do themajority of shellfish harvesting. TheSkokomish mostly harvest oysters in thesouthern extremes of the canal while the

S'Klallams gather clams on the north end.Much of the time, they work in the

pitch black of nighttime low tides, sometimes to the backdrop of car headlights leftshining across the sand. They dress inwaders and carry buckets, shell sacks, anddigging forks. It's no wonder their backsoften ache after days of digging.

"That's the hardest part," said MaryTrevathan. "You bend over at all hours of the

day and you've got to pack what you dig.Our longest pack is probably a half-mile, andwe pack anywhere from 80- to 100-poundpacks. It's a lot easier if you've got a boat, buton a lot of beaches we can't get a boat."

The Trevathans both say thatshellfishing has become easier in the '90sbecause state-owned tidelands have been

opened to the tribes. But their access obviously is nothing compared to what WesternWashington Indians had on tidelands morethan 100years ago.

While the Trevathans scratch the sandsfor harvestable shellfish, the fate of theirtribal tradition and a source of livelihood

may soon be affectedat a negotiating table,or in a federal courtroom — far from the surf

that laps against the sandy beaches of HoodCanal.

On a map of Hood Canal, the landforming Misery Point juts into the water likethe head of an eagle.

Located between Seabeck and Scenic

Beach State Park, this lush, tree-coveredpoint is far from a source of misery forGeorge Usnick, a retired engineer whomoved here from Pittsburgh, Pa., in 1985. Afriend back East jokes that it's more likeHappiness Point.

From his home, Usnick sees a breathtaking panorama, bounded by The Brothersto the south and the Toandos Peninsula tothe north.

His beachfront home is perched on awooded cliffoverlooking the canal. From hispatio, he can see fishing boats dotting the

blue water with a backdrop of PleasantHarbor State Park and the Olympic Mountains.

"There is no place like this I've everseen in my whole life," said Usnick, whotraveled the world as part of his job with theContinental Oil Company. 'That's why I likeit here so much."

His property includes about 200 feet ofbeachfront, and he and Delores often takeleisurely walks along the sand.

Like flowers from a garden, occasionally the Usnicks will pick oysters from theirbeach. Usnick says he's always been a loverof shellfish,and his wife has developed ataste for them since they moved to MiseryPoint.

Several hundred feet south of the

Usnicks' property is a public boat launch,which attracts mostly pleasure boaters andrecreational fishers. Until a few years ago,when waterfront neighbors got together andposted "No Shellfishing" signs, Usnick saystrespassing was a big problem along thepoint.

"When we first came here, there were alot of people who decided to come up andpick oysters," said Usnick. "I kept arguingwith the state that they had to do something,put a sign up to stop them. We did that andnow I'd say 99 percent of the problem hasgone away."

Like many private landowners onHood Canal, Usnick prefers to keep hisbeach closed — to anyone. He has genuineconcerns about garbage spilling onto theshore and firmly believes in his constitutional right to privacy.

"People walk on the beach, but I wouldrather they don't," Usnick said. 'That reallydoesn't bother me. It's just when they comewith five-gallon buckets and they're onlysupposed to take 18 oysters. That's whatreally gets me upset.

"They'll get five gallons of shuckedoysters. Or they'll fill five-gallon buckets andthrow them in their truck. They break thelaws left and right. But all that's simmereddown now (with the placement of thesigns)."

Because he's so fiercely protective ofhis property, Usnickfeels threatened by alawsuit filed by 16Western WashingtonIndian tribes in May of 1989. To his knowledge, he's never seen Native Americanscollecting oysters on his beach. But if the

Oysters •12Z

Tribal

shellfishinghas become

easier because

state-owned

tidelands have

been opened toIndians, butthe access is

nothingcompared toopportunities

Western

WashingtonIndians had

more than 100

years ago.

124* Using the Resource

Many privatelandowners on

Hood Canal

preferto keeptheir beaches

closed — to

anyone.

courts rule in the Indians' favor, or if negotiations give the tribes certain entitlements toprivate beaches, that will all change.

1he twomen,Charlie Trevathan andGeorge Usnick, have never met. Butbecauseof a two-paragraph article scribbled on apiece of parchment 135years ago, they'vebecome unknowing opponents.

In 1855, Isaac Stevens was the territorial governor of Washington, and in negotiating with the Indians over land rights andsettlement of reservations, he granted theIndians permission to specificcustoms. The1855Point No Point treaty with the WesternWashington tribes states the following:

'The right of taking fish at usual andaccustomed grounds and stations is furthersecured to said Indians, in common with allcitizens of the United States;and of erectingtemporary houses for the purpose of curing;together with the privilege of hunting andgathering roots and berries on open andunclaimed lands. Provided, however, thatthey shall not take shell-fishfrom any bedsstaked or cultivated by citizens."

The Boldt decision in 1974recognizedthe Point No Point Treaty as the final law inmatters regarding the territorial rights ofNative Americans, but U.S.DistrictJudgeGeorge Boldtdidn't carry the lawsuitbeyond salmon and steelhead harvests andrule on the taking of shellfish.

A lawsuit filed by the tribes in 1989pursues a continuation of the entitlementissue. And unless it's negotiated outside thecourtroom, this one could be quite a fight,possibly more costly,drawn out and emotionally charged than the fight over thesalmon.

The federal government represents theIndians while the state currently representsthe rights of private landowners and commercial interests who own tideland property.

The Indians contend that under the

provisions of the treaty, all beaches,eitherpublic or private, should be open forshellfishing. They add that private access tothose beaches should be open to all tribalharvesters.

'The treaty language is real clear," saidTony Foreman,fisheries directorfor theSuquamish Tribe. "When the treaties weremade, there was no State of Washington andthere was no conceptof private ownership oftidelands, except for some commercial

development of shellfish that was providedfor in the treaty."

From 1859 to 1970, the Indians claimthat 80 percent of all Western Washingtontideland was sold to private landownerswho were not told of the Indian shellfishingrights. Thus, there currently is a standoff.

Landowners say they are protected bytheir fundamental right to privacy and planto argue over the legal definitions of cultivated tidelands.

In a letter to the Justice Department lastFebruary, Washington Attorney General KenEikenberry wrote: 'The shellfish claim istherefore a much greater direct challenge tothe traditional ownership prerogatives ofthousands of individuals than was the earlier

Phase I (original Boldt decision) allocation ofthe free swimming fish in public waters."

For Mary Trevathan, legal squabblingover shellfish rights seems pretty far removed from her day-to-day world. But she isaware that animosity exists between tribaland non-tribal interests. She also knows of a

group, the United Property Owners ofWashington,thafs consolidatingthe effortsof the landowners.

"They don't really know what's goingon," said Mary Trevathan. 'They think thatwe're out there to just dig every clam we canget. They're scared of what they call 'rapingthe beaches.'

"But we're taking just the harvestableclams, which have to be 1 'A inches orbigger. We can't take the smaller ones. We'retaking the bigger ones but leaving the littleones to grow. They don't realize that. Theyjust think we're taking everything."

Certain federal and state politicianswould prefer that this case never goes tocourt. They're pushing for a cooperativesettlement and the Indians say they want tocomply.

But the tribes also argue they are notgetting the necessarycooperationfromlandowners to reach that settlement. United

Property Owners of Washington officials saypublicly that they would rather litigate theissue than possibly give away their rights ina negotiated deal.

They are spurred by thoughts frompeople like George Usnick, who says asettlement is not acceptable.

"I'm protective of my beach," saidUsnick. "Number one, because ifs mine. Ipaid for it and I pay property taxeshere. Ijust don't want people on my property.

Would you walk up on somebody's yard? Ofcourse not."

Meanwhile, the environmental clock isticking.The state has apportioned certainlands — state parks and property controlledby the Department of Natural Resources —to be open to all shellfish harvesters. Of theapproximate 2,000miles of beach in WesternWashington, roughly 21milesare open totribal and non-tribal harvesters.

Recent studies show that up to 40percent of those public beaches are toopolluted to collectshellfish.Many HoodCanal tidelands fall into that category.

"I think it's obvious that we are all

rapidly running out of beaches to harvestshellfish," said Carson Boysen,spokesmanfor the Northwest Indian Fisheries Commis

sion.

The tribes say that through enhancement, they want to expand the shellfishpopulation. But far more cleaner beaches areneeded to do it.

Private landowners say they, too, areenvironmentally conscious.

But before both sides can make a

concerted effort to protect the shellfish, thereis a huge legal hurdle to cross.

Oysters • 125

126 • Using the Resource

Section 4

Toward

Cleaner

Beaches

By ChristopherDunagan

Waterfront ownerscanhave thiskind of bountybecause of Hood Canal'sexcellent oystergrowing

opportunities.

Ifevery waterfront property ownerwould grow his own oysters, the rateat which beaches are being ruined bypollution would decline, according toJon and Loanna Day, who moved toMisery Point near Seabeck to take

advantage of the fine oyster-growingconditions there.

"When I'm down on the beach and

tending my oysters, I feel like I have it all,"said Day, a marine biology teacher atOlympic High School.

Day sells a few oysters on the side, sothe state Department of Health keeps aregular watch on the bacterial levels at hisbeachfront property.

"One of the nightmares always

nagging at the back of my mind," he said, "iswhether I'll be recertified. You hear of hot

spots where coliforms (bacteria) are increasing, such as the area near Seabeck Store andwhere BigBeefenters (Hood Canal)."

If everybody would grow oysters, Daysays, maybe the word would spread aboutthe importance of caring for septic systems,reducing lawn pesticides and cleaning upafter pets and livestock.

Growing your own oysters is notparticularly difficult, he maintains.

Added Mrs. Day, "You hear peoplesay, 'We used to have oysters here.' To me,that's like saying, 'Gosh, we used to havecarrots in our garden.' "

Many of Hood Canal's beaches are

KEY

•k State Park Beaches

a DNR Beaches

# Countyand other beaches

~\ Commercial areas| Approved areas| Prohibited areas

l.Wolfle Property2 NE ofShine

3. W. R Hicks Co. Park, Shine

4.GiseShoal

5.KitsapMemorialStatePark6. Bolton Peninsula

7. Brown Point

8.TabrookPoint

9. Fisherman Harbor

10.Whitney Point and NW11.Jackson Cove12 Dosewallips13. Pleasant Harbor

14.SealRockForestCamp15. North of Fulton Creek

16. N. of Anderson Cove

17.EagleCreek Rec.Tidelands18.Lilliwaup Rec. Tidelands19. West of DeWatto

20. South of Miller Creek

21.WDFFishHatchery22Potlatch

23.Potlatch

24. Rendsland Creek Rec. Area

25. Twanoh

26. Port ofAllyn27. Belfair

OlympicPeninsula

17

18.

For the shellfishlover, public access to Hood Canal is limited.Stateparks,Department of Natural Resources beachesand county and municipalparkscomprisethoseaccesses. Somestateparkssudi as Dosewallips havebeencloseddue topollution. Withfewexceptions, DNRbeadiesareaccessible bywateronly.Mostoftherestoftheshoreline isprivatelyowned. Donot trespass on privatepropertyinsearchofshellfish. At stateparkbeaches, check posted shellfish regulations before attempting toharvest shellfish.

Quilcene

Brinnon

13 Hood Canal*

Holly

Seabeck

Hood Point ..♦'*

Port

Gamble

/Watershedj boundary

Poulsbo

Bremerton

Port Orchard

A

19

DeWatto• Watershed

\ boundary

20<£

71 HoodsportZt 24

•.23*Potiatdi-

Belfair

26U'25

Source: Kitsap, Jefferson, Mason counties and Sun staff research

Oysters •127

If everybodywould growoysters, JonDay says,maybe the

word ivould

spread aboutthe importance

of caringforseptic systems,reducing lawnpesticides and

cleaning upafter pets and

livestock.

128 • Using the Resource

"You hear

people say,'We used to

have oystershere.' To me,

that's like

saying, 'Gosh,we used to

have carrots in

our garden.'"— Loanna Day

seeded naturally, thanks in large part to thetremendous amount of oyster larvae produced in Quilcene and Dabob bays. Larvaethat survive drift for two or three weeks

before setting on rocks or old oyster shell.One can enhance the amount of oyster

"set" by moving shell from the upper beachto the lower beach. Do not, however, moveuncertified shell from just anyone's beach,warns Day. It is illegal,and uncertifiedshellcarries the threat of spreading a dangerousparasite, the Japaneseoysterdrill, a snailwhich was introduced with early shipmentsof oyster seed.

One can also lay bags or strings of shellout on the beach to catch swimming larvae.The shell can be purchased from certifiedoyster growers, and the state Department ofFisheries keeps track of water conditions andannounces the best time to put them out.

Where oysters don't set naturally, onecan buy bags of oyster seed, or spat, whichare tiny oysters that have already beencaptured and grown for several months onshell.

Oysters grown in Dyes and Sinclairinlets cannot be certified for sale due to

pollution problems,but Day intends to havehis high school class plant some oyster seedthere anyway.

"We can see how fast the oysters grow,and it may be a good way of monitoringpollution levels," he said.

Day says he is disappointed that somewaterfront property owners object to anykind of commercial oyster or mussel farmingnear their homes. More than anything, heargues, such operations prove that thewaters are still clean.

"You will never see a mussel farm in

Commencement Bay," he added.Day worries about the upcoming

decision over whether tribes have a right totake shellfish from private beaches. But hisconcern doesn't slow him down.

'This entire shoreline is a very richresource," he noted. "I hope that people arenot so afraid that they stop cultivatingseafood or stop trying to protect the waterquality."

Increasing levels of nutrients in Hood Canal fromhuman waste andfertilizer runoff mayhelpfeed

plankton blooms that causered tide.

InJune 1991, the first major red tideoutbreak in the history of Hood Canalalarmed Puget Sound researchers, whowere the first to admit they don't knowexactly why it happened.But one researcher, Jack Rensel of the

Universityof Washington Fisheries Department, says further plankton blooms incentral Hood Canal could doom the south

ern part of the waterway, where conditionsappear to be more favorable to the one-celledorganisms.

The closure came after state health

officials noted that high levelsof paralyticshellfish poison had been found in musselsfrom SeabeckBay. The resulting closureaffected all of Hood Canal from Seabeck

north to Hood Canal Bridge,on both Kitsapand Jefferson county sides.

"Things are happening in that area,"said Kenneth Chew, a UW Fisheriesprofes

sor and longtime shellfish biologist. "Before1978,1 used to say that if you eat shellfishsouth of a line drawn even with Port

Townsend, you never have to worry."Since then, he noted, red tide blooms

have moved south into lower Puget Soundand now are threatening Hood Canal.

The cause is unknown, said Chew, but

he personally believes that plankton may befollowing the growth of human population.

"The more people living in these areas,we see an increase in phosphates andnitrates," said Chew. "That's what theorganism desires.

"We are holding our breath on this,"he said. "A massive outbreak in 1978sparedHood Canal, but I've always been wondering when it might poke through there."

Rensel, a graduate student who isdoing extensive studies on plankton, hasproposed a theory about why Hood Canal

Oysters • 129

Section 5

An Invisible

Threat

ByChristopherDunagan

130 • Using the Resource

Since 1978,University ofWashington

shellfishbiologist

Kenneth Chew

has seen red

tide blooms

move south

into lower

Puget Sound,to the point

that they nowthreaten Hood

Canal.

has avoided red tides so far.Every spring, Hood Canal undergoes

blooms involving one-celled plankton calleddiatoms, he says. Stable weather, sunlightand high water temperatures are all factors.

After the spring bloom, central HoodCanal, which is fed by the clear watersflowing out of the Olympics, becomesdepleted of inorganicnitrogen, said Rensel.

Dinoflagellates, free-swimming plankton, areunable to move past the clearlayers of water in centralHood Canal and die, according to Rensel's theory.Gonyaulax catanella, the redtide organism, is one of thedinoflagellates.

So far, the clear watersof central Hood Canal have

saved lower Hood Canal

from serious red tide problems, he said. But conditionsin lower Hood Canal may bemore favorable to the red

tide organism due to the highlevel of nutrients that have

been measured there.

During winter months,most plankton drift to thebottom as cysts and liedormant.

"Once you get the cystsin the sediment," said Rensel,"there is the possibility that itmay be there from now on.The only thing keeping it outof South Hood Canal may bethat it hasn't been there in

such numbers before."

Don Miles of the

Bremerton-Kitsap CountyHealth Department said he has heardunconfirmed reports of a major red tidebloom during the 1940s, but he is not sure ofconditions present at that time. Old-timersrecall a reddish bloom of plankton, but thecolormay be due to another speciesofplankton unrelated to the red tide organism.

Rensel has proposed a study of Hood

plankton and conditions affecting it.The amount of toxin that led to the

closure was 226micrograms of toxin per 100grams of shellfish tissue. The level for closingthe beaches is 80.

Normally, plankton blooms "take twoor three weeks to develop, then can disappear almost overnight," said Louisa

Nishitani, who studied redtide for 20 years until herretirement as a University ofWashington researcher in1985.

The plankton weren'tknown in large numbers insouthern Puget Sound until1978,when a major bloomoccurred up north. After that,the organism has beengradually moving intosouthern waters.

"We knew it was in the

main basin of Puget Soundfor years before 1978," shesaid, "but the conditionsweren't right for it to bloombefore that — or it could

have bloomed in isolated

spots but just wasn't pickedup."

The same could be said

of Hood Canal today, shesaid.

Hood Canal beaches in

the affected area were

reopened two weeks afterclosure. During that period,Jon Day of Seabeck was theonly grower waiting toharvest oysters from hisbeach.

But the threat of red

tide extends to oystergrowers throughout central and southernHood Canal, especially when one realizesthat cysts of the organism can remaindormant, waiting like tiny time bombs forthe right conditions to return.

Increased population in the HoodCanal watershed may heighten the risk ofpoisonous plankton blooms and add to the

Red tideclosing

Hood Canalsuffered its

first-ever closure tored tide in 1991.

Now that theplankton is present

in the canal,shellfish growersare concerned the

blooms couldbecome morefrequent andwidespread.

Canal that would measure the dangerous threat already posed by growing pollution.