SEBASTIAN — People have long appreciated clams as delicious foodstuffs. But the ubiquitous bivalves have another important “talent.”
Left to their own devices, in their natural habitat, the homely creatures are aquatic superheroes, filtering impurities from their home waters and supporting the well-being of the entire river ecosystem.
Historically, the humble clam (with its bivalve cousin, the oyster) has done as much to shape the character and sustain the economy of North Indian River County as has citrus.
And today, like the citrus industry, clamming on the Indian River (old-timers will never refer to it in any other way) is but a shadow of what it once was.
In the booming days of the mid-80s to mid-90s, Sebastian was a force to be reckoned in the clam industry.
Clams were plentiful, sold wholesale and retail; Sebastian even had a cannery.
At that time, millions of clams harvested in local waters passed through local fish houses to local markets, wholesale and retail, as well as to out-of-state markets.
After the net ban of 1995 dealt a near fatal blow to commercial fishing along the river, the state instituted a re-training program for fisherman to become clam farmers.
Although the program started with a good deal of fanfare, it met with little success in the long run.
Today, local clammers harvest far fewer clams, for markets which are, for the most part, out of state.
Ed Mangano is the owner of Aqua Gem Farms, a clam processing operation in Sebastian which receives clams from local farmers and ships them, by air or tractor trailer, to wholesale buyers all over the U.S. and Canada.
With degrees in aquaculture an environmental science, Mangano worked at Harbor Branch for a couple of years, then began farming in the Indian River, working with the Sembler & Sembler operation in Sebastian, then launching his own companies.
Mangano’s operation grows seed clams from brood stock in its local nursery/hatchery at the site of the old Sembler fishhouse (now Squid Lips) as well as in Cedar Key and New Smyrna.
When the seed clams are ready, they go to farmers/growers, who literally “plant” the seed clams in the riverbed, carefully covering them with special screen-like fabric, to protect them until they mature to market size.
The process, from nursery to maturity, is, says Mangano, “about a 2-year turn-around.”
According to Aqua Gem transportation director Fred Mensing, there are 26 leases in Indian River County, in the state-approved location east of the channel across from Sebastian.
When the clams are ready, the growers return them to Aqua Gem, where they are processed, packed and shipped off to market.
Mensing names such diverse destinations as California, including Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco, Colorado, Virginia, Idaho, North Carolina, and Canada.
Current Florida markets include Key West and, locally, Crab-E-Bill’s and Capt. Hiram’s.
These days, during season, Aqua Gem can ship around 100-150 80-pound bushels a week, which is about 100,000 to 150,000 clams.
With the summer’s heat closing in, clamming has pretty much come to an end until September.
Mangano remembers the good years, when “we grew 35 million clams on 50 leases north of the inlet, near Melbourne.”
The good years of large scale clam farming, he says, came to an end in 2004 when “Hurricanes Frances and Jeanne put a real endpoint to the large, commercial production.”
Charlie Sembler, the fourth generation of one of Sebastian’s old fishing families, stands at the end of the dock at Fisherman’s Landing, where clamming boats, his and others, hang suspended over the water.
He points across the river. That, he says, is where the 5-acre clamming leases are located, now reduced to a tiny postage stamp of submerged land in which clammers are allowed by the state to grow their clam beds.
The reason the clamming industry is only a fraction of what is was in the 20th century cannot be blamed on one factor, says Sembler. It is far more complicated.
In the old days, the problems were simple and easily defined: storms, natural predators, the occasional red tide, and even poaching.
“Poaching was a huge problem.” Sembler remembers his grandfather saying, “We just took care of it – quickly, decisively and in terms they could understand.”
But those days are long gone.
During the past 30 years, the government has placed layers of regulations on the industry and, through its water control districts, has worked to divert the state’s natural water systems in an effort to serve the growing demands of a growing population, many of whom do not see water as the finite resource it is, Sembler explains.
While widening and dredging the inlet and creating efficient stormwater management systems result in obvious benefits to communities, the impact on the lagoon ecosystem is, in some respects, negative.
For example, because an efficient stormwater management system moves stormwater through, out of and away from communities as quickly and efficiently as possible, as residents demand, the water is no longer able to undergo the natural filtration of pollutants it would receive if left to its natural drainage course, a much slower flow through filtering wetland vegetation.
Sembler gave another example: When the inlet was widened, the lagoon – a brackish estuary – experienced a huge influx of ocean water. Now, with a salinity more like the ocean than an estuary, the lagoon is becoming less hospitable to its natural inhabitants, including the clams, which are especially sensitive to such change.
Further upsetting the lagoon’s unique ecosystem are the ocean creatures who, drawn to the saltier ocean-like water, are moving in: the fishermen, on the lagoon every day, are spotting more ocean dwellers such as sharks, barracuda, lion fish and oyster drills (small, predatory snails that can decimate an entire clam bed) among others.
Sembler again points across to the clam beds.
“Those are our ‘canaries in the mines,’ our first warning of changes in the lagoon.”
This brings him to another concern: more and more frequently, the individuals at state and federal levels who are making regulatory decisions of significance to the local ecosystems have little or no personal familiarity with the area and its special characteristics and issues.
Sembler says, he’ll ask them, “How many hours have you spent on the river?”
More and more frequently, the answer is “none.”
“There is a real disconnect,” he says. “A knowledge gap.”
In spite of the obstacles local clammers face, Sebastian clam processors and growers are moving forward, determined to survive regulatory and environmental challenges and produce a top quality product in a changing economy.
“There is a growing market for food clams,” Mangano said. And Capt. Kirk Van Hart, a Roseland resident who has been fishing and clamming all his life, puts it simply, “It’s a changing business.
The biggest thing now is trying to keep the water good. It’s a very tender balance.”
