I said this a few years ago, and yesterday's story on the juvenile crab stock in the bay prompts me to say it again: Place a one-year moratorium on crabbing; tell the watermen to find something else to do for 365 days because, if we don't do something soon, they'll be out of business for good. Many have already put their pots in storage because of what's been happening out there.

"Perilously close to collapse" is how the Chesapeake Bay Foundation characterized the crab population more than a decade ago. A moratorium saved the rockfish; it can save the blue crab. (And spare me the argument that the rockfish resurgence has destroyed the crab population; humans will take close to 50 million pounds of crabs out of the bay this year.)

All things considered -- the demand for crabs and the amount of population growth in Maryland and Virginia, the decline of bay grasses, the repeated warnings of biologists -- I don't think this is an extreme measure.

From my Sun column, 1999:
Even watermen in Virginia think there's a problem with crabs.
   Let me repeat that: Even watermen in Virginia think there's a problem with
crabs.
   The term "hardhead" refers to two things in the Chesapeake -- the Atlantic
croaker, a fish of the family Sciaenidae that emits a croaking noise, and
Virginia watermen. Those guys have for years resisted anyone, especially
biologists from Maryland, who dared suggest they significantly restrict
harvest for the sake of conserving a fishery.
   But now they're getting the message that Maryland watermen have been slowly
coming to accept: We've exploited the blue crab. It's time to lay off for a
while. Even a moratorium on harvesting shouldn't be out of the question.
   Do I exaggerate?
   I just go by what the scientists have been telling us for a while now. They
have a pretty good track record of figuring these things out.
   "Perilously close to collapse" is how the Chesapeake Bay Foundation
characterized the blue crab population four years ago, when it called for a
year-round deep-water sanctuary -- a no-catch zone -- from the Bay Bridge to
Cape Henry.
   A survey by Maryland's Department of Natural Resources in the winter of
1998 found the number of young crabs below average.
   Last spring, a report from the Chesapeake Bay Program concluded that the
bay's crab population was "fully exploited."
   Last summer, Maryland recorded its worst crab harvest on record -- and
that's with 26 million pounds taken to the dock.
   In Virginia, crabbers took a paltry 35 million pounds out of the bay and
then, as usual, went after crabs over the winter, dredging the mud in the
mouth of the bay where the critters hibernate. The winter harvest in Virginia
was "disappointing," we're told.
   So even in Virginia they're concerned.
   Remarkably, watermen down there asked the commonwealth to stop issuing new
crabbing licenses, and the Virginia Marine Resources Commission obliged with a
one-year moratorium.
   That's good news (especially if you already have a crabbing license). It
shows some growth in thinking. For years the mentality has been: These things
go in cycles, the crabs will come back, bureaucrats and biologists ought to
stop micromanaging and leave the watermen alone.
   But let's face it: Aggressive harvests, year after year, combined with
other factors -- loss of vital bay grasses in the great crab nursery of
Tangier Sound, resurgence of the crab-crunching rockfish -- lead to a
dwindling crab population.
   So the consistently bad news -- just recently, a reported 30 percent loss
in bay grasses in Tangier -- is enough to convince me to pull out of the crab
market. I don't eat them. My boycott started in August and, except for a minor
slip to sample crab soup at Peerce's Plantation, it's held. I haven't put a
chicken neck on a line for a couple of summers.
   Of course, it's not like the situation is dire. You can get crabs. When the
Chesapeake harvest doesn't meet demand, wholesalers get crabs from North
Carolina and the Gulf states. If you have friends visiting Baltimore and their
hearts are set on eating steamed crabs, and you're willing to pay the high
market price -- $25 a dozen steamed, I heard the other day -- you can get your
fill.
   But unless you ask, you don't know if you're getting a Chesapeake crab or
an import.
   Personally, I don't want the imports. Our restaurants and seafood markets
shouldn't have to rely on them. I want the blue crab to come back in big
numbers in a thriving Chesapeake, our home waters, and at $12 a dozen.
   That's why I'm taking a break from crab houses for the rest of the year.
   Am I saving the bay?
   I figure it this way: I've eaten my fill of Maryland crabs over the past 22
years, I can lay off for one. It might help. Maybe others will think about it.
   This is a way of saying to the people who make these decisions: If you want
to cut back dramatically on the crab harvest in Maryland, it's OK. Forget the
politics. Shorten the season, retire some commercial licenses. Do it, if you
think it'll make a difference.
   If the short-term result is fewer crabs to market, fine. We'll get by. If
we want Chesapeake crabs in big supply and at reasonable prices for years to
come, then we should support efforts to temporarily but significantly restrict
the harvest. For consumers, that means resting our mallets for a while.
   Nutria, anyone? Tastes just like chicken.