This elegantly written and compelling work portrays the way the Japanese demand for giant bluefin tuna has altered the lives of Cape Cod fishermen. In telling the story of one man's passionate hunt for giant bluefin, Douglas Whynott's Giant Bluefin details the competition and camaraderie in the bluefin fishery, the pressures of a conservationist movement seeking to limit the bluefin harvest, and the struggle of the fisherman himself against "the wild horses of [the] fish species." “Whynott's superb report on the bluefin harpoon fishery takes readers to the old whaling grounds off Cape Cod and shows that the adventure and controversy associated with that extinct American industry survive today, on boats with names like Scratcher, Back Off, and Tenacious.” ― The New Yorker “Whynott portrays these "true sons of the whalers of old" with sympathy and understanding in a book filled with depth and drama.” ― Andrea Barrett, Outside Douglas Whynott is the author of Following the Bloom , Giant Bluefin , and A Unit of Water, A Unit of Time . He lives near Hanover, New Hampshire, and directs the M.F.A. writing program at Emerson College in Boston. Giant Bluefin By Douglas Whynott North Point Press Copyright © 1996 Douglas Whynott All right reserved. ISBN: 9780865474970 Giant Bluefin PART ONE The 1992 Season ( 1 ) THE SHOW     T HIS WOULD be an afternoon show, Brad Sampson figured. At least it had been so far, with the bluefin rising to the surface with the slack tide in the warmer part of the day. Bluefin tuna were an epipelagic species, meaning they ranged far and lived in the upper waters of the ocean. Bluefin liked to get close to the heat of the day, to cruise with their dorsal fins above water, like sharks or dolphins. "Making water," trailing wakes, by triangular aspect revealing their courses, a purple shade moving along, that was what the bluefin harpooners looked for. That was the show.Just three days ago, July 4, the last good-weather day, Brad Sampson, a harpoon fisherman, had been near Outer Kettle off Portland when he got a call from Eric Hesse, another tuna fisherman who'd come from Cape Cod to Maine to chase the first fish of the season. Eric told Brad that fish were only "five boats," or 250 feet, away. Brad had stopped the boat and was working on the engine. When he looked up, he saw four wakes coming his way. His mate took the wheel of the Scratcher , and Brad got on the stand, and they circled around behind the school--it's much more difficult to approach bluefin by going straight at them. The boat got close, but the school settled and Brad couldn't make a throw. That was a hard opportunity to miss. You didn't see fish up like that very often.Atlantic bluefin tuna seemed to show up first off the coast of Maine, or at least that was where the first fish were usually caught. Sixteento twenty bluefin had been taken so far this season. Strangely, some bluefin arrived in Maine fat, while most came in lean. The fish taken on June 11 weighed over 500 pounds "round," 370 pounds "dressed," and brought $16 a pound in Japan. Another tuna brought $25 a pound, and a third $43, but most of the others were not good enough--not fat enough--to merit a trip to the Japanese markets. These "domestic" fish were bringing about $3 a pound and went primarily to New England fish markets and restaurants.In Japan, red tuna meat, maguro , is an essential component of a good meal, and bluefin is the quintessential maguro --the food of perfection. Served raw in thin slices as sushi or sashimi, a two-ounce serving could cost as much as $75 in Tokyo. The Japanese consumed 400,000 tons of raw fish yearly, about 35 percent of it imported, and the raw market was the only niche for American fishermen. Bluefin tuna had the highest status among imports--3 percent by volume, but 10 percent by value. Of the many sources--Australia, California, Spain, the Canary Islands--the "jumbo bluefin" of New England, because of its size, oil content, and color, was most often the bluefin with the highest status on the Japanese market.The early arrivals in the Gulf of Maine (some called them "marauders," others called them "racers") had migrated to feed on the abundant mackerel and herring. They had come days or weeks ahead of the big schools now making their way north off the Atlantic coast, or heading in from eastern waters. And in concert with their prey, the fishermen working in Maine, harpoon fishermen generally, were also in the vanguard--ahead of other harpooners, and ahead of the fleets of rod-and-reel fishermen soon to drop their lines along the underwater ledges and hills, and ahead of the purse seiners, who would begin setting their nets in August. Fish and fishermen, scouts and hunters, testing the northern waters, following instinct, following leads.Brad Sampson, twenty-two years old, a college student, son of perhaps the best tuna fisherman in New England, thought these Maine fish were "squirrelly."