October 25, 2021 — Over the past decade the waters around Cape Cod have become host to one of the densest seasonal concentrations of adult white sharks in the world. Acoustic tagging data suggest the animals trickle into the region during lengthening days in May, increase in abundance throughout summer, peak in October and mostly depart by the dimming light and plunging temperatures of Thanksgiving. To conservationists, the annual returns are a success story, a welcome sign of ecosystem recovery at a time when many wildlife species are depleted. But the phenomenon carries unusual public-safety implications. Unlike many places where adult white sharks congregate, which tend to be remote islands with large colonies of sea lions or seals, the sharks’ summer residency in New England overlaps with tourist season at one of the Northeast’s most coveted recreational areas. Moreover, the animals are hunting in remarkably shallow water, at times within feet of the beach. This puts large numbers of people in close contact with a fast and efficient megapredator, historically the oceans’ most feared fish.
Among critics of the white-shark status quo, disillusionment runs deep. Other members of the Cape Cod Ocean Community, including Drew Taylor, reject the reliance on nonlethal approaches. Taylor proposes challenging policy and amending federal law to allow communities to set preferred population levels for white sharks and gray seals and permit hunting or fishing to reduce their numbers. Conservation laws, he said, were understandable in intent but lack tools to deal adequately with rebounds of this scale. “How can you write a law that protects something in perpetuity?” he said. His views, like those heard in human-wildlife conflicts elsewhere, can be summarized like this: It’s perfectly reasonable to find lions or cobras or white sharks captivating but not want hundreds of them feeding in your neighborhood park. He blames federal policies for fostering biological and social dynamics that force people to yield without question or recourse to dangerous or nuisance animals. Marine mammals, he noted, enjoy protection that terrestrial mammals do not; a sole black bear that roamed Cape Cod in 2012, for example, was promptly tranquilized and removed.
Greg Connors, captain of the 40-foot gillnet vessel Constance Sea, which fishes from Chatham, said environmentalists and bureaucrats have not fully considered the gray seal recovery’s effect on people who live on the water. Seal advocates and scientists, he said, have not shown convincing evidence that the historic seal population in New England was as large as it is now and operate on assumptions that all increases are good. At some point, he said, other voices and interests should be balanced against those in control. “They never set a bar on how high they want it to get,” he said of the seal population. “It’s always just more. That’s a terrible plan.” Seals, he said, have done more than attract white sharks; they have driven fish farther to sea and steal catches from nets. Nick Muto, the lobster captain, said marine-mammal protections, as designed, defy common sense. Why, he asked, do protections apply equally to North Atlantic right whales, of which perhaps 400 animals remain, and gray seals, which in the western Atlantic number roughly half a million? He was surprised that Medici’s death didn’t change the official stance. “I thought once somebody died here,” he said, “it would be lights out for the seals.” Connors and Muto acknowledge there is little chance for an amendment, an assessment shared by their industry group. “We’re under no illusion that there is going to be a cull,” said John Pappalardo, who heads the Cape Cod Commercial Fishermen’s Alliance. “Blood on the beach? People would not tolerate that.” But frustrations capture the degree to which one side feels overtalked and alienated by the other, including many people whose lives center on the water.
Read the full story at the New York Tims Magazine