Making Memories… With Mollusks

As I write my column, Labor Day is fast approaching. Soon the summer of 2008 will be history. War wounds from an army of insects (ants, mosquitoes and no-see-ums) who ambushed my skin with their poisonous ammunition are evident, as red welts speckle nearly every inch of my body. Patches of severe sunburn emerge randomly in spots where I failed to apply an adequate amount of sunscreen. Serious salon attention is desperately needed for my parched hair and cracked nails.

I am, however, proud of my battle scars. My ancestors who settled here long before modern conveniences (such as air conditioning) suffered severe adversities. Vacationers still fear Florida’s sweltering heat, and tourism slows considerably during the scorching months, allowing tough descendants of pioneers to enjoy the season. This summer, my family challenged the obstacles prevalent during the pre-Disney era and embraced one of the true treasures of this steamy state: scalloping in the Gulf of Mexico.

The bay scallop is a bi-valve mollusk that lives in sea-grass beds. At one time, these mollusks were abundant, from Palm Beach to the Chandeleur Islands in Louisiana. Large populations only thrive today in selected locations along the west coast of Florida. Scallops are energetic swimmers. They click their shells together, expelling water to propel their bodies. Harvesting pectens with my adult children and their spouses was great fun; cleaning the scallops was a tedious, time-consuming task. As we shared the delicious fresh seafood and discussed our day’s adventure, we created a cherished lifelong memory.

Later that evening, as I applied a variety of topical ointments to my scared skin, fond recollections from my childhood flooded my mind and helped me forget my temporary discomfort. Before drifting off to a deep satisfying sleep, I pondered the fate of a different type of mollusk that played a significant role in my family’s history — the queen conch.

My paternal ancestors were descendants from the Bahamas who migrated to the Florida Keys. Generations have since passed, yet the Bahamian tradition of considering conch the ‘queen of the shallow water’ still remains. In my youth, the island chain was primitive and not attractive to tourists, seafood was abundant and I learned customs passed down from distant relatives.

Fishing for conch in the Atlantic Ocean was a family affair. My parents owned a lot on Grassy Key, where we launched our boat. Snorkeling and swimming in the quest to find conch was a great sport; however, we never wasted any part of our catch. Native Bahamian recipes featuring conch were a regular part of our diet. We dined on dishes of chowder, a rich meaty soup with tomatoes and herbs; cracked conch, a tenderized — by hammering — fried conch; and salad, a delicious mixture of chopped raw conch, onions, peppers and lime juice. My father then sold the shells in his local souvenir store, Pinder’s Shell Shop.

Unfortunately, as Florida’s population grew, fishermen with little respect for the conservation of conch nearly stripped the once fertile ocean of this magnificent mollusk. Today, it is illegal to fish for queen conch in Florida’s waters. Most conch meat consumed in the United States today is imported. Organizations such as The Conch Heritage Network (CHN) and the Convention for the International Trade of Endangered Species (CITES) provide an optimistic outlook for their survival. The mission of CHN is, “To advance conservation and wise management of the queen conch through education, research, and restoration.”

The CHN Web site, www.savetheconch.org, reports the following: “Queen Conch is listed as a commercially threatened species. By being listed under CITES, countries which export conch are now required to have a permit approved by CITES management. This is in order to make sure conch is harvested at a sustainable rate.”

Because of past greed, pollution and waste, my children may never experience their true Bahamian conch culture. Yet, there is still hope. By educating the masses, encouraging the protection of our environment and empowering protectionist organizations, future Floridians will be able to make memories while embracing the natural resources of this spectacular peninsula I call home.

Donna Bonnell is a writer in Newberry. She may be contacted at Donna@towerpublications.

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