La. crawfish harvest yields dismay
alarming: In December, just 1,281 pounds of crawfish moved through the dock. That month the year before, it had been 78,000. In January, it took in roughly 4,340 pounds, compared with 158,000 the year before.
Crawfish farming is a fusion of science, art, faith, superstition and hard work. The formula varies from farmer to farmer. One says a successful day follows a storm, as the thunder rouses the crawfish out of the earth. Another credits his wife’s prayer. Many adhere to practices that have been handed down over generations.
And even still, the crawfish can remain mystifying.
“It’s a lot of luck,” said Suire’s father, Lucas, 60, who farms the same few hundred acres that his father and grandfather had. “I don’t understand crawfish. I’ve been doing this 39 years, and I still don’t know crawfish.”
The torturous summer was widely attributed to an El Niño weather pattern. And although some in the crawfish industry were reluctant to blame climate change, in a state that has been bombarded by powerful hurricanes, ice storms, wildfires and an ocean voraciously chewing away its coastline, here was yet another vivid display of nature’s volatility.
“Mother Nature has everything to do with it,” said Barry Toups, who has a crawfish farm in Vermilion Parish.
Stelly wants to expand the radius of where live crawfish can be delivered.
He also thinks of his daughters.
His oldest is studying agriculture business at McNeese State University in Lake Charles, with plans to plow what she learns back into the family business.
He wants to hand her a robust operation one day, but recent events have shaken his certainty.
“Right now, the future?” he said. “I really don’t know.”