The Revolution Has Begun

The lobster conspiracy

It was a day like any other summer day on the coast of Maine -- the sun pierced through puffy clouds, a southwest breeze rustled the evergreens. The name of the town, Friendship, felt like a warm handshake. And yet I smelled trouble from the moment I turned onto Main Street.

I was scheduled to give a talk in Friendship in a few weeks, and I was nervous. Despite the name, Friendship is home to some of the toughest, most cantankerous lobstermen around. Here I was, a city boy, come to tell the locals a thing or two about lobsters. Sure, I'd put in two years as a sternman on a lobster boat up the coast, but the fishermen there were pansies compared to these guys. Copies of my book, its artistically etched claw and girly cursive script on the cover, were scheduled to be distributed around town. I feared that like the occasional speed-limit sign or offensively ornate mailbox, my book and its bright red claw would become a target when the local lobstermen next recalibrated the sights on their rifles from speeding pickup trucks. When I approached Friendship's general store, I saw a notice with my name on it, taped to the door like a wanted poster.

I retreated, snuck around the corner, and ducked into the offices of my host, The Lobster Conservancy. The Lobster Conservancy is a research organization founded by Diane Cowan, one of the scientists I write about in my book, and it was my only hope for protection. Diane and her staff have spent years reaching out to the local lobstermen, a revolutionary approach that has earned Diane the respect of fishermen and allowed her to do what few lobster scientists have managed to do in the past -- enlist lobstermen's help on collaborative research. As evidenced by the organization's name, The Lobster Conservancy does great things in the cause of conserving the lobster resource for the future.

The welcome sign (top)
disarmed the UPS
delivery man, who was
surely frightened by
the shipping label
(bottom). (photos:
Trevor Corson)

But it turned out that even my welcome at The Lobster Conservancy was marred by a disturbing development, and things quickly went downhill. Boxes containing copies of my book had indeed arrived in Friendship, and were stacked in a corner of The Lobster Conservancy offices.

But a member of the staff pointed accusingly at the address labels on the boxes. Wondering what could possibly have gone wrong, I examined the labels, then drew back in horror. My publisher had addressed every box containing copies of my book not to The Lobster Conservancy, but -- no joke -- to The Lobster Conspiracy.

As it happened, I needn't have worried. When I gave my talk in Friendship a few weeks later, a crowd of seventy friendly Friendship residents showed up. Diane Cowan introduced me to the crowd with such warmth and good humor that I felt reckless enough to declare the event the first official meeting of The Lobster Conspiracy. The lobster revolution has begun.