Trap Fishing

Corey Wheeler Forrest is a third-generation Sakonnet Point, Rhode Island fish trapper and fish dealer, who, at age 40, works right alongside her brother and father on their trap boat, the Maria Mendonsa. “I grew up as a little girl hearing my grandfather and father talk about fish, weather, the nets. It’s the same thing today: Our conversation revolves around fish and work. It’s who we are,” says Corey.

Fishing families are rare in Rhode Island, with a few out of Point Judith, and a few up the Bay. The Wheelers are three generations into fish trapping with little sign of giving up. Although it is it rare to come across a family that works together over generations, the way the Wheelers harvest fish is even more rare. There are only four trap companies left in Rhode Island, down from approximately 200 in the late 1800s.

The floating trap, as it is called, is unique to Rhode Island and has a long history in the state. It is designed to catch fish that are moving and works best on schooling fish like scup, striped bass, butterfish, bluefish and bonito.

The trap has four components: the leader, the wings, the frame and the net itself. The leader is a long wall of webbing that leads the fish, guiding them down into the trap. This leader, on the Wheelers’ big net off Newport, near the end of the Cliff Walk, is about 1,200 feet long. After the leader comes a series of funnels, called wings. The funnels act like the inside of a lobster trap, making it hard for the fish to escape. At the end of the last funnel is the actual trap, essentially a box made of twine, 60 feet long by 60 feet high. This is where the fish end up. The whole arrangement is held off the bottom by 26 (900-pound) individual anchors. “In a lot of [types of ] fishing it’s the boats that move around,” says Luke. “They follow the fish. In trap fishing, we can’t move. The fish have to come to us.”

To make a trip with the Wheelers and steam out of Sakonnet Harbor is to take a trip back in time. “Not much has changed from the way we fish now to back when this [trap fishing] began,” says Alan. There are no hydraulics. The 30-feet-long skiffs that are towed out behind the Maria Mendonsa, on the way to the nets, have no engines. They need to be either rowed or sculled. When the skiffs are circled around the trap and the net is hauled, called “pulling twine,” it is literally that—hand-over-hand, the entire crew pulls and pulls. Some wear gloves, some do not. Some talk, others are silent. It has a rhythm to it, the air around the boats smells strongly of salt, seaweed and fresh fish.

Making a living in trap fishing isn’t easy. All fishing is unpredictable and full of uncertainty. The warming ocean has an impact; so do fish prices, fuel prices and the list goes on. “It’s hard work to keep it going,” says Alan. “A lot of people have gotten out of it. But I think it’s worth holding on to. We feed people. That’s important.”