Trapped and dying, this female is no
longer able to retain her tentacles
Photo: Alan James
A cuttlefish tries to gain entry to a pot
with the seven already trapped
Photo: Alan James
Film maker Alan Mildren records the
cuttlefish's egg-laying ritual
Photo: Alan James
Cuttlefish mating head to head
Photo: Alan James
In only six hours, seven cuttlefish
were trapped in this pot
Photo: Alan James
The bottom of this pot contains 16
dead and dying cuttlefish
Photo: Alan James
|
For more than a decade, I have photographed the annual courtship of cuttlefish at Babbacombe Bay in Devon. It is one of the most amazing spectacles in British waters, as the cephalopods gather in large numbers in a prelude to mating. In an age in which fish stocks are on the verge of collapse, divers have been able to enjoy a snapshot of the sea as it should be.
But for how long? Recent years have seen the cuttlefish targeted by pot fishermen who have refined their techniques to such an extent that the breeding population is being effectively wiped out. This year, fewer cuttlefish than ever made it through the gauntlet of pot lines to mate and lay their eggs in the weed beds of the bay.
I wanted to witness the catch rate of a cuttlefish pot, so my buddy - videographer Alan Mildren - and I watched a fisherman empty two traps around 7am, then dived the same pots at 12.30pm. There were seven cuttlefish in the first pot and five in the second, and while we were filming another two cuttlefish appeared, apparently keen to join the aggregation. There is evidence that fishermen leave one of the animals in a pot to attract others inside; for a cuttlefish in search of a mate, it is an effective lure.
The same morning, we carried out a survey of cuttlefish hotspots off the beach and found only 21 had made it past the ranks of pots - in previous years we would have seen countless cuttles. The reason was obvious: the mating area was surrounded by hundreds of cuttlefish pots, each of which was capable of taking seven animals in a matter of hours.
The fisherman was operating totally within the law, so all I could do was take photographs of the trapped cuttlefish desperately laying eggs on the pot netting in a final, doomed attempt to create a new generation. These egg clusters, which resemble a bunch of grapes, take a minimum of a month to hatch, and they will not survive being pulled out of the water.
I carried out another survey of the Babbacombe pots at the end of the spring breeding season and came across an horrific sight - a pot that had lost its surface marker. The inside of the pot was pure carnage, with 16 dead and dying cuttlefish lying at the bottom and five cuttle bones sticking out of the top. One of the females had had all her tentacles eaten away by hermit crabs while waiting to die.
Fishermen have a right to earn a living, but what I witnessed amounted to a wholesale removal of a key species from Babbacombe Bay: short-term gain followed by a likely collapse. The cuttlefish are not even sold to the domestic market - they are packaged and sent to Spain, where they are a delicacy. Now we must wait for next season to see if the breeding population is still sustainable.
I reported the situation to the Marine Conservation Society and the Devon Coast and Countryside Trust, which is keeping English Nature informed about the situation. In the meantime, anyone who wants to register their feelings is welcome to write to English Nature, Northminster House, Peterborough, PE1 1UA.
