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oyster farming

    AQUACULTURE

    Time to Wake the Oysters

    With days ever so slightly warmer, farmers return bags of bivalves to the water

    By

    WELLFLEET — Oysters don’t hibernate, but when winter sets in and water temperatures dip below 48 degrees Fahrenheit, they enter something like a dormant state, which allows them to conserve energy. In the cold water of the harbor, the phytoplankton and algae they live on are in short supply, and they survive on glycogen, a stored form of glucose.

    As the days grow warmer, shellfishermen get to work returning pitted oysters to the water. Jimmy Mulpeter removes bags of oysters from a winter storage cellar. (Photos by Edward Boches)

    Now it’s time for the oysters to wake up from their winter naps and begin feeding on the nutrients the harbor offers them.

    Most growers here remove their oysters from the water once temperatures begin to plummet and ice threatens to overtake the flats. They store them — the practice is called “pitting” — in cool, dark, humid conditions until spring. Surveying the flats on these longer, warmer days, you’ll see the farmers returning their bags of oysters to the tides.

    When pits were just pits, winter losses of oysters were much higher. This one, designed and built by Jim O’Connell, is climate controlled and sports a conveyor belt for sending bags of oysters up and down.

    In the past, oystermen simply stored their oysters in cave-like pits. But because the pits lacked climate control, the oysters were vulnerable to moisture loss, suffocation, or predation. Growers would lose half or more of their shellfish over the course of the winter. Aquaculturists today use cellars, walk-in refrigerators, or insulated containers where they can monitor and adjust conditions for their oysters through the season. The survival rate is 90 to 95 percent, particularly if the oysters are smaller and have yet to spawn.

    From left, Bernardo Ribeiro, Jim O’Connell, and Jimmy Mulpeter form a three-person assembly line to shuttle 1,000-plus oyster bags from pit to conveyer belt to truck.

    To promote dormancy and prevent freezing or dehydration, growers try to keep the oysters between 34 and 45 degrees F and to maintain humidity between 85 and 95 percent. As with oyster farming, growers approach pitting in various ways. Mike DeVasto, who shares his grant on the west side of Field Point with his wife, Katie Murphy, relies on an insulated container with no mechanical refrigeration. He says he uses a thermostat and heat lamps if temperatures get too low.

    Rebar racks pounded into the flats await the oysters’ return to the harbor.

    Jason Weisman, who farms on Loagy Bay, stores his in a highly efficient refurbished U.S. Navy Polar King seamless cooler, designed specifically for outdoor use. He covers them with salt marsh hay and moving blankets that he keeps wet to retain moisture. Jim O’Connell, who was a mechanical engineer before he was an oysterman, built two below-ground pits that he controls with air-conditioning units and a system that returns moisture to the space.

    An 8:50 a.m. low tide means that Jimmy Mulpeter, Ross Scherma, and Andy Slowinski start work at 5:30, transporting bags from the pit to the harbor and getting a good start on securing them to racks before the tide turns.

    In every case, the growers pay close attention to the thermometer. Ideally, they’ll move their shellfish from one environment to another with as little fluctuation in temperature as possible.

    O’Connell, who had 500,000 oysters at different stages of growth stored for the winter, keeps records on each bag’s contents, including the hatchery that sold him his seed and the age of the oysters.

    Back in the water, the oysters rehydrate, purge any impurities or sediments they may have accumulated, and feed. The Mass. Div. of Marine Fisheries requires that oysters spend 14 days on the tides before those that are large enough may be harvested. As the oysters settle into their spring routines, can summer be far behind?

    OYSTERFEST 2024

    Women on the Tides

    In Wellfleet, women find their dream jobs on the flats

    By

    Photos and story by Edward Boches

    The weather can be harsh, the winds frigid, the low tides so early it’s hard to get out of bed to work them. And that work — lifting sledgehammers to pound hats into the sand, hauling out canoes piled high with gear, culling oysters from grow bags that can weigh upwards of 50 pounds — calls for strength and endurance. Shellfishing can take a toll on the body.

    Maybe it’s understandable that when most people imagine an oyster farmer, they picture a man. But that just means they haven’t been to Wellfleet, where according to Shellfish Constable Nancy Civetta over 30 percent of the oystermen are women.

    Peggy Jennings was eight when she decided she wanted to be an oyster farmer. Seventy years later she still works the grant she’s had since 1985 and which she now shares with her daughter Nora.

    That wasn’t the case 70 years ago when a curious and outgoing eight-year-old named Peggy Jennings, on her first visit to Wellfleet, had the courage to ask Tony Oliver, the constable at that time, what the men were doing in the water off Mayo Beach. Oliver walked Peggy along the shore and explained that the men were oyster farming.

    Nora Jennings, who works with her mother, Peggy, secures a grow bag to a rebar rack. As oysters grow, the bags, which can weigh 50 pounds or more, are lifted off the flats so the oysters inside can be culled and divided.

    Back then, virtually every oyster grower was a man, but that didn’t deter Jennings. “I decided then and there that’s what I wanted to do,” she says. Jennings still works the grant she shares with her daughter Nora. “After that summer, all my friends were reading Nancy Drew, but I only read books about the ocean, boats, and fishing.”

    Twenty-three years later, in 1977, Jennings moved to Wellfleet and started shellfishing. She remembers encountering resistance from the town’s select board and others, but she persisted, and by 1985 she’d secured a grant on Indian Neck.

    A legendary leader in Wellfleet’s oyster community, Barbara Austin served on Wellfleet’s shellfish advisory board for many years. She’s also a three-time OysterFest shuck-off champion.

    Not far away, Barbara Austin works her three-acre grant. Interested in marine biology from her time growing up by the beaches in Eastham, Austin went to work oyster farming immediately after graduating from high school in 1979. She got a grant the same year Jennings did.

    “It wasn’t a full-time job right away,” Austin says. “By then I was married with a two-year-old, working as a waitress at the Double Dragon.” It was another 20 years before Austin could make oyster farming a full-time job.

    Now, as you walk past the 11 oyster grants along Field Point and Indian Neck, you’ll see women lifting bags of oysters on at least half of them. A few may have learned by working the tide with a parent or a partner. But many, like Jennings and Austin, sought out shellfishing on their own for the independence it offered and for their love of the outdoors.

    Violet DeVasto, 6, counts oysters that her mom, Katie Murphy, will load into a cooler.

    On a warm early fall day, Katie Murphy, wearing cutoff jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of muck boots, is on the grant she shares with her husband, Mike DeVasto. Joined by a crew of three and sometimes by their six-year-old daughter, Violet, Murphy hauls gear from her yard, culls and counts oysters, and loads bags of market-ready shellfish into coolers on the back of her pickup truck.

    Murphy has a master’s degree in natural resources management and worked at a sustainable farm collective when she was studying at the University of Vermont, but she knew little about oysters until she met DeVasto, whose uncle had a grant. Now she works on the family’s oyster farm. It’s “the dream job I never knew I wanted,” Murphy says.

    “I’m grateful every day to count myself among the strong and proud Wellfleet oystermen,” says Katie Murphy. She grows oysters with her husband, Mike DeVasto, on their Field Point farm.

    “There are times when the amount of labor and expense could make you doubt yourself, but then you just look around at the beauty of the tide,” says Murphy. That beauty is also social and cultural, she says. “All the small farmers side by side, making a living with their hands, growing a delicious food product that also cleans the water, and selling it to our neighbors — I love every part of it.”

    On Loagy Bay, Casey Semple has her name on a grant with her stepfather, Evan Bruinooge.  She’s been growing oysters since she was a teenager. “You’re doing something that feels more meaningful than working in an office,” she says. “You’re growing food.” Semple says she has always needed a second or third job to supplement her income, but “this is by far the most rewarding work I get to do.”

    Casey Semple culls and measures market-ready oysters on the Loagy Bay grant she shares with her stepfather, Evan Bruinooge. When you’re shellfish farming, she says, “You’re doing something that feels more meaningful than working in an office — you’re growing food.”

    Women are also trying out the profession by taking summer jobs in shellfishing here. “I wanted something other than working in a restaurant,” says Mimi Malicoat Bois, who grew up in Provincetown. This was her third season working on Jim O’Connell’s Indian Neck grant. She worked alongside two other women college students, Mayim Richman and Adi Richman, sisters from New York City, and one recent graduate, her cousin Clementine Malicoat Valtz of Wellfleet. The four unanimously declare their love for a job that is outdoors, on the tide, and demands real physical labor.

    Mayim Richman from New York City working on Jim O’Connell’s clam farm on Field Point during the summer. In the background, her sister Adi puts on gloves for raking seaweed.

    To qualify for a commercial license that will allow you to harvest in the wild, you have to have lived in Wellfleet for at least a year. Then there is the possibility of a grant — a license to farm a specific piece of town land in the harbor. Getting that requires three years of experience on someone else’s grant. Then, too, an opportunity has to become available and be won through a lottery system.

    The summer crew on Jim O’Connell’s Field Point grant, from left, Clementine Malicoat Valtz, Mimi Malicoat Bois, Mayim Richman, and Adi Richman.

    “It took time and commitment,” says Karen Johnson, who grew up in Dennis and now has a grant in Wellfleet. Johnson had worked in technology for 20 years when she decided she wanted to do something more physical. Over the next 10 years, she gained experience in aquaculture working for growers across the Cape and then took a job in her hometown as farm manager at Aquacultural Research Corporation, A.R.C., the Cape’s only shellfish hatchery.

    Karen Johnson, who won her grant on Egg Island in 2023, also picks oysters in the wild.

    She had her sights set elsewhere, though. “I wanted to work for myself, and I wanted to work in Wellfleet,” Johnson says. She moved to town and a year later got her commercial license and started picking wild oysters. That and her previous farmhand experience qualified her to enter the town’s lottery when a grant became available on Egg Island in 2023. There were 19 contenders for two grants, and she won one.

    “Despite having a grant, I’m still out there wild harvesting because I need to make enough money to pay for gear, seed, and other startup expenses,” she says. “But it’s worth it. I work on the beach. My co-workers are seagulls.”

    Jennings says she’s glad there are now more women oyster growers. And the work on the tides has never lost its appeal. “There’s no place I’d rather be,” she says. “I’m happiest when I’m out here.”

    Photographer Edward Boches has been documenting Wellfleet’s oyster and clam farming for several years. These images are part of a project focused on the women of the town’s shellfishing community.

    ON THE FLATS

    Meet the Farmers of Mayo Beach

    Growers respond to nature and science as they consider the future of shellfishing

    By

    WELLFLEET — Jake Puffer beckons a group of touring visitors closer, asking if they want to peek inside the ridges of his farm’s oyster hats. Disks dipped in lime, sand, and cement, then stacked and staked into the muddy flats, the hats are arranged in rows designed to catch the billions of oyster larvae swimming in Wellfleet’s waters during the early summer.

    During tours organized by the Wellfleet Oyster Alliance, the nonprofit organization behind the town’s OysterFest, Puffer and others have been giving visitors to the flats a closer look at the shellfishing work most see only from the shore.

    Lisa Brown, a founder of Wellfleet’s OysterFest and the nonprofit behind it, now called the Wellfleet Oyster Alliance, starts the tour with some facts about the history of shellfishing here. (Photos by Edward Boches)

    There are three more tours scheduled this month, says Nancy O’Connell, WOA’s president. The days will be growing shorter by the end of the month, and the festival ahead, on the weekend of Oct. 19-20, will require the attention of just about everyone in the industry.

    The baby oysters Puffer shows the group — once they are lodged on the disks they are called spat — comprise 90 percent of the seed he starts nurturing each year. That’s a lot, Puffer says, in an industry where many buy oyster seed spawned in hatcheries, of which there is only one on Cape Cod, the Aquacultural Research Corp., or A.R.C.

    Puffer put his hats in the water in mid-June, and on an early morning in late July miniature oysters have already begun forming inside the folds like precious crystals. “These are what fuels the farm,” says Puffer, who’s been raising oysters here for over two decades. He took over the grant — these are intertidal parcels that the state allows towns to license to local shellfishermen for aquacultural use — just off Mayo Beach from his father, Irving Puffer, in 2022.

    Jake Puffer who took over his father’s grant in 2022 has himself been farming oysters in Wellfleet harbor for over 20 years.

    In addition to being the time for catching future harvests, the warmer months offer Wellfleet aquaculturists relief from punishingly cold waters. But the summer’s longer days can also mean two low tides during daylight hours, expanding the amount of work to be done on their farms.

    Alongside these seasonal changes, other gradual shifts are underway, some from climate change and others in the way of a generational handoff.

     

    Passing the Torch

    As has happened with his own family, Puffer says, transitions are on the horizon for other older farmers. “There’s going to be a changeover more and more as time goes on,” he says. Puffer says oyster farming is “site-specific,” and he hopes to one day pass what he’s learned about his grant to the next farmer.

    According to Nancy Civetta, Wellfleet’s shellfish constable, the shift is well underway. Since the start of this year, eight people have been added to the list of grant holders, and three of them are the young adult children of current holders. There are now 142 grant holders for 161 grants and 121 farms in Wellfleet, says Civetta.

    “There are very thoughtful plans by a lot of shellfishermen to do things like Jake and his dad did in terms of passing the torch,” says O’Connell. That’s happening in her own family. Her husband, Jim, has been cultivating oysters and clams for over two decades, but he has also been working hard to bring along younger farmers. Over the last few years, his nephew Jimmy Mulpeter has stuck with it, learning every aspect of the work from seed to harvest.

    Jake Puffer tells visitors about collecting and nurturing wild oyster spat on conical hats in the harbor. The natural seed oyster, he says, is “what fuels the farm.”

    Another kind of transition happens when a grant holder has no ready successor. In those cases, the grant is awarded to an up-and-coming shellfisherman through a lottery. Grants that are returned to the lottery are often there for a reason, having been or become unproductive, says Alfred Pickard, who is showing off his clam farm on the tour. He’s not optimistic about those farms.

    But Civetta, the constable, says she’s seen all kinds of difficult plots find success. She adds that, for those entering the industry, there are opportunities for apprenticeship on existing grants, with the possibility of taking over a license in the future.

    Aquaculturists are searching for people who are learning the necessary skills and working on Wellfleet grants when it comes to succession plans. “If you’re actively engaging, you’re part of the community,” Civetta said. “People look around.”

     

    Confronting Climate Change

    The next generation of Wellfleet shellfish farmers will certainly need to navigate the effects of climate change on this harbor that has been known for its ability to nurture oysters for centuries. Although Puffer says the specific effects of global warming here can be hard to discern, some are nonetheless obvious.

    This year, Puffer put his oyster hats out in mid-June, but that hasn’t always been the case. The change in timing is part of a delicate balance. Staged too early, the hats will “foul up,” but delay too long and the spat will pass you by, Puffer says. He used to put the discs on the flats in the first week of July, but starting a few years ago, that was too late. Warmer waters have caused oysters to spawn earlier in the summer, he says.

    Almost a decade ago, a report by a working group that brought together local shellfishermen and biologists with the Social and Environmental Research Institute outlined the potential effects of  climate change on shellfishing in Wellfleet Harbor. That 2015 study suggested the possibility of a rise in mortality due to a lack of the oysters’ food source, phytoplankton, and also suggested that global warming could increase disease in oysters and quahogs and benefit predators, among other negative effects.

    “We should be looking at that report and evaluating impacts that we might be able to mitigate,” says Civetta. “We have time, but we need to prioritize it.”

    This gauge tells Alfred Pickard whether his clams have reached harvest width (one inch for in-state markets).

    These developments come to an industry that is the town’s largest year-round and continues to grow. In 2022, the value of Wellfleet’s shellfish landings was more than $9.5 million, up from $6.8 million in 2018, according to the Wellfleet Shellfish Dept.’s annual reports.

    Like Puffer, Pickard says the local effects of warming waters aren’t clear. But recently, Pickard, who mostly farms clams as opposed to oysters, has seen species of warmer-water predators that he has not seen in the past.

    From afar, Pickard’s farm looks like an unplanted garden with seaweed lying on top. At low tide, while showing a summer tour around his clam farm, he drags a cleanout rack across brown mud. The movement reveals a dark black layer of mud underneath. Shells pop out from below. A crab scrambles away.

    “Normally we’d annihilate him, but I’m going to be nice since you’re all here,” he says.

    Alfred Pickard demonstrates the rake he uses to harvest clams on his farm near Mayo Beach.

    Pickard’s raking is part of his planting process, which typically occurs in the summer. Large nets are pulled over the cleared flats, which are called “runways,” usually 13 feet wide and stretching between 100 and 250 feet long. Pickard and his employees plant 100,000 clams in each plot, roughly six million total each year.

    An array of other rakes round out Pickard’s collection of tools. He sweeps the seaweed off the nets regularly with a garden rake so that previously planted seed doesn’t suffocate. He harvests with a cage-like bull rake, designed to be used underwater.

    Pickard, who says he’s been working in the industry for at least five decades, has seen aquaculture become a science over those years as opposed to “just doing it.” He believes a reliance on science and technology will help the younger generation, which includes his own family. Two of Pickard’s sons have entered the industry, both with degrees in marine sciences.

    “The kids have the education that we didn’t,” he says.

    On the Flats 

    The event: Shellfishing farm tours
    The time: One-hour tours on Sept. 18 at 5 p.m.; Sept. 21 at 8 a.m.; and Sept. 22 at 9 a.m.
    The place: Mayo Beach, Wellfleet
    The cost: $30, age 13 and up; 12 and under free; details at wellfleetoa.org/events

    ON THE FLATS

    Meet the Farmers of Mayo Beach

    Growers respond to nature and science as they consider the future of shellfishing

    By

    WELLFLEET — Jake Puffer beckons a group of touring visitors closer, asking if they want to peek inside the ridges of his farm’s oyster hats. Disks dipped in lime, sand, and cement, then stacked and staked into the muddy flats, the hats are arranged in rows designed to catch the billions of oyster larvae swimming in Wellfleet’s waters during the early summer.

    During tours organized by the Wellfleet Oyster Alliance, the nonprofit organization behind the town’s OysterFest, Puffer and others have been giving visitors to the flats a closer look at the shellfishing work most see only from the shore.

    Lisa Brown, a founder of Wellfleet’s OysterFest and the nonprofit behind it, now called the Wellfleet Oyster Alliance, starts the tour with some facts about the history of shellfishing here. (Photos by Edward Boches)

    There are three more tours scheduled this month, says Nancy O’Connell, WOA’s president. The days will be growing shorter by the end of the month, and the festival ahead, on the weekend of Oct. 19-20, will require the attention of just about everyone in the industry.

    The baby oysters Puffer shows the group — once they are lodged on the disks they are called spat — comprise 90 percent of the seed he starts nurturing each year. That’s a lot, Puffer says, in an industry where many buy oyster seed spawned in hatcheries, of which there is only one on Cape Cod, the Aquacultural Research Corp., or A.R.C.

    Puffer put his hats in the water in mid-June, and on an early morning in late July miniature oysters have already begun forming inside the folds like precious crystals. “These are what fuels the farm,” says Puffer, who’s been raising oysters here for over two decades. He took over the grant — these are intertidal parcels that the state allows towns to license to local shellfishermen for aquacultural use — just off Mayo Beach from his father, Irving Puffer, in 2022.

    Jake Puffer who took over his father’s grant in 2022 has himself been farming oysters in Wellfleet harbor for over 20 years.

    In addition to being the time for catching future harvests, the warmer months offer Wellfleet aquaculturists relief from punishingly cold waters. But the summer’s longer days can also mean two low tides during daylight hours, expanding the amount of work to be done on their farms.

    Alongside these seasonal changes, other gradual shifts are underway, some from climate change and others in the way of a generational handoff.

     

    Passing the Torch

    As has happened with his own family, Puffer says, transitions are on the horizon for other older farmers. “There’s going to be a changeover more and more as time goes on,” he says. Puffer says oyster farming is “site-specific,” and he hopes to one day pass what he’s learned about his grant to the next farmer.

    According to Nancy Civetta, Wellfleet’s shellfish constable, the shift is well underway. Since the start of this year, eight people have been added to the list of grant holders, and three of them are the young adult children of current holders. There are now 142 grant holders for 161 grants and 121 farms in Wellfleet, says Civetta.

    “There are very thoughtful plans by a lot of shellfishermen to do things like Jake and his dad did in terms of passing the torch,” says O’Connell. That’s happening in her own family. Her husband, Jim, has been cultivating oysters and clams for over two decades, but he has also been working hard to bring along younger farmers. Over the last few years, his nephew Jimmy Mulpeter has stuck with it, learning every aspect of the work from seed to harvest.

    Jake Puffer tells visitors about collecting and nurturing wild oyster spat on conical hats in the harbor. The natural seed oyster, he says, is “what fuels the farm.”

    Another kind of transition happens when a grant holder has no ready successor. In those cases, the grant is awarded to an up-and-coming shellfisherman through a lottery. Grants that are returned to the lottery are often there for a reason, having been or become unproductive, says Alfred Pickard, who is showing off his clam farm on the tour. He’s not optimistic about those farms.

    But Civetta, the constable, says she’s seen all kinds of difficult plots find success. She adds that, for those entering the industry, there are opportunities for apprenticeship on existing grants, with the possibility of taking over a license in the future.

    Aquaculturists are searching for people who are learning the necessary skills and working on Wellfleet grants when it comes to succession plans. “If you’re actively engaging, you’re part of the community,” Civetta said. “People look around.”

     

    Confronting Climate Change

    The next generation of Wellfleet shellfish farmers will certainly need to navigate the effects of climate change on this harbor that has been known for its ability to nurture oysters for centuries. Although Puffer says the specific effects of global warming here can be hard to discern, some are nonetheless obvious.

    This year, Puffer put his oyster hats out in mid-June, but that hasn’t always been the case. The change in timing is part of a delicate balance. Staged too early, the hats will “foul up,” but delay too long and the spat will pass you by, Puffer says. He used to put the discs on the flats in the first week of July, but starting a few years ago, that was too late. Warmer waters have caused oysters to spawn earlier in the summer, he says.

    Almost a decade ago, a report by a working group that brought together local shellfishermen and biologists with the Social and Environmental Research Institute outlined the potential effects of  climate change on shellfishing in Wellfleet Harbor. That 2015 study suggested the possibility of a rise in mortality due to a lack of the oysters’ food source, phytoplankton, and also suggested that global warming could increase disease in oysters and quahogs and benefit predators, among other negative effects.

    “We should be looking at that report and evaluating impacts that we might be able to mitigate,” says Civetta. “We have time, but we need to prioritize it.”

    This gauge tells Alfred Pickard whether his clams have reached harvest width (one inch for in-state markets).

    These developments come to an industry that is the town’s largest year-round and continues to grow. In 2022, the value of Wellfleet’s shellfish landings was more than $9.5 million, up from $6.8 million in 2018, according to the Wellfleet Shellfish Dept.’s annual reports.

    Like Puffer, Pickard says the local effects of warming waters aren’t clear. But recently, Pickard, who mostly farms clams as opposed to oysters, has seen species of warmer-water predators that he has not seen in the past.

    From afar, Pickard’s farm looks like an unplanted garden with seaweed lying on top. At low tide, while showing a summer tour around his clam farm, he drags a cleanout rack across brown mud. The movement reveals a dark black layer of mud underneath. Shells pop out from below. A crab scrambles away.

    “Normally we’d annihilate him, but I’m going to be nice since you’re all here,” he says.

    Alfred Pickard demonstrates the rake he uses to harvest clams on his farm near Mayo Beach.

    Pickard’s raking is part of his planting process, which typically occurs in the summer. Large nets are pulled over the cleared flats, which are called “runways,” usually 13 feet wide and stretching between 100 and 250 feet long. Pickard and his employees plant 100,000 clams in each plot, roughly six million total each year.

    An array of other rakes round out Pickard’s collection of tools. He sweeps the seaweed off the nets regularly with a garden rake so that previously planted seed doesn’t suffocate. He harvests with a cage-like bull rake, designed to be used underwater.

    Pickard, who says he’s been working in the industry for at least five decades, has seen aquaculture become a science over those years as opposed to “just doing it.” He believes a reliance on science and technology will help the younger generation, which includes his own family. Two of Pickard’s sons have entered the industry, both with degrees in marine sciences.

    “The kids have the education that we didn’t,” he says.

    On the Flats 

    The event: Shellfishing farm tours
    The time: One-hour tours on Sept. 18 at 5 p.m.; Sept. 21 at 8 a.m.; and Sept. 22 at 9 a.m.
    The place: Mayo Beach, Wellfleet
    The cost: $30, age 13 and up; 12 and under free; details at wellfleetoa.org/events

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