What Canada can learn from Maine's approach to the lucrative baby eel fishery

With the only light coming from their headlamps and the moon, Darrell Young and his son, Dustin, make their way through the woods and down a bank, to the stream below. It's 3 a.m. in Franklin, Maine, and the father and son are going to see how many ba‐ by eels are in their nets.

Authorities in Maine say they have figured out how to regulate a fishery that is so out of control in Canada, the federal government has shut it down this year - the third shutdown in five years putting 1,100 people out of work.

Baby eels, also known as elvers or glass eels, are gen‐ erally fished in rivers and streams in Maine, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and a handful of Caribbean islands. They're shipped live to Asia, where they're grown to ma‐ turity and eaten - the dish is so popular it led to overfish‐ ing in Japan and Europe, leav‐ ing seafood wholesalers looking to Canada.

Elvers are extremely valu‐ able, worth nearly $5,000 a kilogram last year, compared to lobster, which is worth $15.

But in March, the minister of fisheries and oceans said the fishery would not open this year due to violence, ille‐ gal fishing and sustainability concerns.

Since March 6, fisheries officers have arrested 123 people and seized 21 vehi‐ cles, 118 kilograms of elvers and 286 nets. People from Maine have also been caught elver fishing in Nova Scotia.

The U.S. experienced simi‐ lar problems more than a decade ago, but began mak‐ ing changes to how its elver fishery is regulated in 2012. The Maine Department of Marine Resources says it now deals with only four to five in‐ fractions a year, compared to 220 in 2013.

'We would put them in jail'

Over a period of several years, the state increased fines, revoked licenses and made elver violations a crime - instead of a civil infraction.

"We would put them in jail. We weren't messing around," said Patrick Keliher, commissioner of the Maine Department of Marine Re‐ sources.

Keliher says he was faced with shutting the fishery down for good, or making some serious changes.

The value of Maine's fish‐ ery has varied dramatically over the years as it has changed its regulations, but, at its peak, was worth more than $40 million US.

The state also eliminated cash transactions in the fish‐ ery because there was so much cash - up to half a mil‐ lion dollars a person - chang‐ ing hands right on the rivers.

"Banks were running out of money in eastern Maine," he said.

"That was a dangerous sit‐ uation. I mean, my officers were walking up to har‐ vesters and dealers and everyone was carrying guns."

Keliher also oversaw the institution of a traceability system that allows the state to monitor the harvest in real time using swipe cards or fobs.

When Young was ready to sell his elvers, he went to an established facility, where the buyer swiped his fob, enter‐ ing the elvers into the sys‐ tem.

"They knew who caught them, where they caught them and how much they got and that took care of the poaching," said Young, in those early morning hours at the edge of the Grist Mill Stream.

Additionally, if a buyer gets caught with any illegal eels - no matter how few - of‐ ficers have the authority to seize all of their eels, includ‐ ing those legally caught.

Maine also tightly controls the export of elvers. Marine Patrol officers visit dealers, monitor the packing, weigh the elvers and seal them with a tamper-proof seal. Then the U.S. Fish and Wildlife ser‐ vice inspects the containers at the airport before they leave the country.

Keliher said not one ship‐ ment has been tampered with since that system was put in place.

In Canada, there is no fed‐ eral oversight of the elver supply chain from harvest to export, but the Department of Fisheries and Oceans (DFO) says it has launched a comprehensive review of how the fishery is managed.

Treaty rights

Maine has also carved out roughly 22 per cent of its overall quota for its four fed‐ erally recognized Indigenous tribes.

Chuck Loring, natural re‐ sources director for one of them, the Penobscot Nation, which has 48 licenses, says his people believe they should have even more, but they don't participate in unauthorized fishing.

"We don't have any issues going over on the quota.

We've been, you know, re‐ spectful of that," he told CBC News in his community, just over 20 kilometres northeast of Bangor.

When the fishery is open, Canada sets aside part of its total allowable catch for In‐ digenous people. But beyond that, some Indigenous peo‐ ple say they have a treaty right to fish for a moderate livelihood, without a license from the DFO and in spite of the fact the fishery has been shut down.

Last month two Mi'kmaw fishers were arrested for fish‐ ing elvers. They admitted they were fishing but said they were practising their treaty rights.

A 1999 Supreme Court of Canada decision reaffirmed the right to fish for a moder‐ ate livelihood, but didn't define exactly what that means, and also said the fed‐ eral government has a right to regulate that fishery.

Loring acknowledged all treaty rights are different.

The DFO says, with the fishery closed, anyone caught fishing or in posses‐ sion of elvers would be sub‐ ject to enforcement.

Keliher said he's been giv‐ en "very good information" to suggest there is unautho‐ rized fishing happening in Canada regularly, and he says that black market eel is driving the price down for le‐ gal fishermen in Maine, be‐ cause overseas buyers no longer want to pay full price.

Keliher spoke before Canada's standing Senate committee on fisheries and oceans on March 21 and out‐ lined the changes in Maine's elver fishery.

Some senators were aghast at the progress Maine has made while Canada con‐ tinues to deal with violence.

"DFO from Canada came to discuss your successes in 2023?" asked Sen. Stan Kutcher, after confirming Maine had had the fishery under control since 2018. "We all can do the math," he said.

Keliher confirmed the ma‐ jority of his department's conversations with the DFO about policy changes had taken place within the past six to eight months.

"That's still just recent, I just, I'm just coming to terms with that fact," stammered

Sen. Colin Deacon.

Several senators had questions about the cost and resources associated with

Maine's tight regulations.

Keliher said the state di‐ rects revenue from harvester licenses - ranging from $240 US to $498 US - and revenue from a lottery for new li‐ censes, to an eel manage‐ ment fund. In 2024, 12,000 people paid $35 each for chances to obtain 14 new available licenses, bringing in more than $400,000 US for that management fund.

In an interview, Keliher said it won't be enough for Canada to implement only some of the measures Maine has.

"You have to start with it all," he said. "If you start tak‐ ing pieces away, you start losing control."