Growing up in coastal Maine, Essie Martin ’21 has seen the effects of climate change firsthand, both on ecosystems and on the communities that rely on the ocean for their livelihoods. 

That experience inspired Martin, a geology major from Newcastle, to study natural science and sparked her interest in aquaculture, a form of food production that, done responsibly, could mitigate the effects of overfishing and climate change. 

Martin will move closer to her goal thanks to a highly competitive Harry S. Truman Scholarship, funding graduate study for students with demonstrated leadership potential and a commitment to public service. 

The federally funded award, sponsored and administered by the Harry S. Truman Scholarship Foundation, provides up to $30,000 for graduate study, as well as leadership training, career and graduate school counseling, and federal government internship opportunities. 

Martin, one of 62 Truman Scholars in 2020, is the first �ֲ���ý student to receive the scholarship since Jay Surdukowski ’02 in 2001. In applying, she worked closely with Robert Strong, lecturer in English and director of national fellowships at �ֲ���ý.  

“Essie has used her time at �ֲ���ý to acquire the knowledge and skills that will advance progress in aquaculture and help her address issues of vital importance to her home state of Maine,” says �ֲ���ý President Clayton Spencer. “These issues are among the most troubling effects of climate change in Maine, where commercial fishing — one of the state’s largest industries — is threatened by rapidly warming ocean waters.”

Martin plans to earn a master’s degree in aquaculture, the farming of marine organisms.  Aquaculture is a broad field: Practitioners could raise fish in specific ocean waters, or in tanks on land or in the water; or grow mollusks on seabeds or on rope; or cultivate kelp. 

It’s an alternative to traditional fishing, which is threatened by a set of intersecting issues. In the Gulf of Maine, not only are , but overfishing over the decades, particularly for , has contributed to decreasing biodiversity. As a consequence, most fishing industry effort tends to focus on a single catch — in Maine’s case, lobster, an industry that employs many of Martin’s high school classmates. 

“The resulting specialization can lead to environmental degradation and make economies more vulnerable to climate change,” Martin says. 

Martin sees aquaculture as a way to fight climate change and to sustain local communities. Growing kelp, for example, “provides income for the fishermen and food for the people on the coast and elsewhere, but then it also helps mitigate climate change by sequestering carbon,” Martin says. “It’s a similar deal with shellfish. Oysters filter the water.” 

That fusion of environmentalism and concern for people’s well-being led Martin to apply for the public service–focused Truman. She hopes not only to develop expertise in ocean science and aquaculture but help governments oversee the industry as it becomes more common. (Maine already supports farmed salmon and mussels, among other seafoods.) 

“In order for aquaculture to be part of the solution and not just another failed project, we really need good policy and good regulation,” Martin says. “That stems from understanding science, systems, and species.” 

That means including fishers, as well as scientists and policymakers, in policy and aquaculture development. 

“It’s really important for everyone to have a seat at the table if we’re going to write good policy,” she says. 

Martin’s undergraduate experience has already given her a strong science and public service background. She developed strong relationships with her professors, gaining classroom and field research experience. 

“It’s really nice to have a small department where you can form individual relationships,” she says. 

One of those professors was Whitehouse Professor of Geology Dyk Eusden ’80. During Short Term in 2019, Martin and two other students teamed with Eusden to map bedrock in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. 

Eusden came to appreciate in Martin the qualities of a future Truman Scholar, including deep and wide-ranging engagement in current issues, ideas, and the world around her, as well as the ability to negotiate the twists and turns of a difficult project.

“Essie showed great interest in our project, had a keen set of eyes for field geology, and was passionate about the progress and map we were making,” says Eusden. 

“It’s really important for everyone to have a seat at the table if we’re going to write good policy.”

“She would often point out to me wildflowers that she knew, discuss politics during the long walk in the woods back to the car from atop the Mahoosuc Range, or tell me stories of her family in Newcastle.” 

Outside the classroom, Martin serves as environmental director for the �ֲ���ý Outing Club, working to minimize the environmental impact of the club’s activities; as a student EcoRep she organizes the twice-yearly EcoService Day. 

She’s also gotten a head start on aquaculture itself, working as a research intern in summer 2019 at a , studying the effectiveness of cultivating oysters in abandoned lobster pounds in Bremen, Maine.

Environmental justice, the idea that environmental policies and initiatives should involve and be fair to all people regardless of race, national origin, or income, has been a vital part of her environmental education. 

It “permeates every level — Commons conversations, classes people are taking, the maps I was making in an environmental studies class,” Martin says, referring to a geographic information systems course that included mapping food deserts, indigenous tribes in Maine, and the damage from the Mount St. Helens volcanic explosion.

Absorbing and exploring these ideas from teachers and peers “have helped me go down this path,” she says. 

Funded by her Truman, Martin hopes to earn a master’s degree in aquaculture, then pursue a doctorate in oceanography, working to advance both the aquaculture industry and the policy surrounding it. 

“It means a great deal that the Truman Foundation believes enough in the research I want to pursue to award me a scholarship and welcome me into the amazing community of Truman scholars,” Martin says.

Maine native Matt Moretti ’06 has always loved the ocean.

“From the beginning, I’ve been interested in the sea and the way organisms function, in a biological sense,” he says. “And while I had that interest, it was always a nondescript, undefined kind of love for natural processes. It wasn’t fully formed.”

At �ֲ���ý, Moretti’s passion began to take shape as he majored in biology and took marine biology courses, amassing knowledge that would eventually support a stint at the New England Aquarium, a Northeastern master’s program in marine biology, and global sojourns to far-flung ecosystems like Mo’orea in the South Pacific, where an encounter with French Polynesian shrimp farmers turned on a lightbulb.

Moretti’s mussels operation on Custom House Wharf in Portland includes, at right, his working boat, La Cozze, and his houseboat, at left.

“I realized the traditional ocean research track wasn’t what I wanted to do [with my life],” he says, so after his time in Mo’orea and Catalina, as part of his master’s work, “aquaculture presented itself as a tangible something I could do, not just be interested in.”

Moretti returned to his home state, eager for experience and work. He found it on an oyster farm, where he cultivated his love for aquaculture.

And then he learned that a Casco Bay mussel farm was for sale.

Son and Pop Shop

In 2010, Moretti and his dad, Gary, bought Bangs Island Mussels.

For some, mixing business and family would be an instant recipe for disaster, but Moretti appreciates his business arrangement.

Moretti and his father, Gary Moretti, pose for a portrait at the Bangs Island Mussels processing facility on the Portland waterfront.

“Dad’s given me a lot of freedom to do things in the business that I wouldn’t have had in a more traditional relationship with a business partner. He puts a lot of faith in my ability to help make things happen.”

He pauses.

“We have a lot of trust in one another, I suppose. He always has my back, and I always have his.”

Early Bird

On harvest days, which occur two or three times a week throughout the year, Moretti and his team begin at six o’clock; for five months of the year, that’s before the sun has risen.

They meet at a marina warehouse, the home of Bangs Island Mussels land operations, located on a wharf off Commercial Street in downtown Portland.

The supplies for the day are lowered into an idling boat, La Cozze, Italian for “The Mussel,” by a small crane over the cargo hold. Crates packed with ice, empty “totes” (large plastic bins), and a silvery stainless-steel sorting table are arranged on the deck.

Then, the boat shoves off, carefully minding Loretta, the harbor mascot, a partially-blind seal who makes her home in the calm waters of the marina, before setting course due east.

It will take slightly less than an hour to reach the first raft.

Moretti ’06 steers La Cozze out of Portland Harbor toward Clapboard Island in Casco Bay, the site of the day’s mussel harvest.

Grit-Free Grub

You can cultivate mussels any number of ways. Moretti uses the Spanish style, in which thick, coarse ropes, each seeded with mussels, hang suspended from rafts that float in the cool waters of the Casco Bay.

It takes the mussels about 18 months to mature. All the while, the filter-feeding shellfish feed on the nutrients within their ecosystem, giving Bangs Island Mussels a distinctive flavor profile, says Moretti.

Bangs Island Mussels grow on ropes that hang from rafts, and each rope is about 35 feet long.

“It’s not dissimilar to wine, where the same type of grape will taste different depending on where it’s grown, the specific region of earth, and its surrounding climate.”

Unlike some of their bivalve brethren, the mussels don’t come into contact with the sandy bay bottom, so they are grit-free, creating a more enjoyable experience for the eventual diner.

Plus, because the rafts are protected with nets, the mussels aren’t in danger of being eaten by crabs or starfish. With the lack of predation, the mussel’s shell remains thinner, allowing the meat to grow thick, sweet, and plump.

Moretti has 10 rafts on his aquatic farm, along with a processing barge, “and we can have 400 lines on one raft alone,” he says.

Phase 1

Once the team reaches the farm, the work continues. First, they use their boat to pull the barge — which houses all of the processing equipment — into position next to one of the rafts.

After reaching the harvest site off Clapboard Island in Casco Bay, the crew prepares the barge for harvesting.

Next, the team begins to pull lines, attaching the mussel ropes to a medieval-looking pulley system on the barge that drags the lines through a tiny hole, releasing the mussels from the rope like beads from a broken necklace.

As the mollusks spill onto the deck, they’re moved into a large pile with colorful plastic shovels, the Crayola red and yellow standing in sharp contrast to the mud-soaked planks of the barge. Moretti and his workers spray the mussels, both to wash off mud that collects despite their perch above the ocean floor and to keep them cool and fresh.

A pulley and winch pulls a mussel-encrusted rope onto the barge for processing.

The mussels are then spun through the stainless-steel declumper and grading wheel, which help weed out the smaller mussels from the market-grade fare.

The hum of the hydraulic motors running the declumper forbids any conversation below a hearty yell. Instead, the team works with a quiet cadence, using hand signals when necessary.

Once the mussels are carefully hand-sorted, they are placed on ice and loaded onto the boat.

On the barge, Moretti (left) feeds the clumped mussels into a machine that breaks their byssal threads and does an initial sorting. Crew member Adam Shapiro (right) collects the separated mussels.

Duck Tales

“Aquaculture on the ocean, like we do it, basically takes two jobs with very unpredictable elements — farming and fishing — and puts them together,” says Moretti.

“We’re in the open ocean, vulnerable to a lot of elements at play that we don’t have control over. We try and mitigate those risks as much as possible.”

After they’re declumped, cleaned, and sorted by machine, the mussels are hand-sorted by crew members Kirstina Littig and Daniel Dunham.

While heavy winds and torrential storms can spell trouble for raft-style mussel farms, it’s a certain duck-billed deviant that poses the biggest (and perhaps most annoying) threat.

“Eider ducks are the bane of my existence,” says Moretti, chuckling softly. “They’re incredible mussel eaters. They can eat their body weight in mussels in a single day.”

Moretti and his crew spend a large amount of time and energy attempting to passively deter the ducks from eating their mussels by deploying protective netting that hangs below the waterline around the rafts.

Good fences make good neighbors…and tasty mussels grown to term.

Sorting It Out

The harvest is delivered back to the warehouse by 3 p.m., where the second shift waits to begin their day’s work.

Back at the Bangs Island processing facility on the Portland waterfront, workers process and prepare the harvest for delivery to eateries near and far.

Under the watchful eye of Gary, who manages this second phase of the harvest, the Bangs Island team members continue the “wash, rinse, repeat” mantra executed on the barge.

The mussels are fed through a variety of sorting and debearding machines, and are subject to more inspection and hand-grading before they’re packed on ice, ready for the distributors.

On average, the team can process 2,500 pounds of product in a single day.

Building a Responsible Business

From an environmental perspective, mussel farming is a very low impact way of producing food compared to other farming systems. And Moretti’s proud of that fact.

“We wouldn’t get into a business that had a negative effect on the environment,” says Moretti.

“Our ocean farming practices go back to our core company goals: to provide the finest quality seafood in a completely safe and sustainable manner,” says Moretti.

As active filter feeders, mussels improve local water quality by “removing phytoplankton, which in excess can reduce water quality,” explains Professor of Biology Will Ambrose.

Mussels also remove carbon from the water but whether that helps make seawater less acidic — a claim made by some aquaculture supporters — isn’t proven, Ambrose says, noting that “the carbonate system that controls seawater pH is very complicated.”

Moretti and his father believe strongly in employing environmentally safe farming methods. “We don’t add anything artificial or foreign to the system to help grow the mussels,” says Moretti.

“Our ocean farming practices go back to our core company goals: to provide the finest quality seafood in a completely safe and sustainable manner.”

Spreading the Love

Today, Bangs Island Mussels are distributed nationally, from Atlanta restaurants to Denver eateries and everywhere in between.

Close to home, one of Moretti’s local buyers is self-taught culinary wizard Andrew Taylor ’03, an award-winning chef and co-owner of three Portland restaurants, Eventide Oyster Co., Hugo’s, and The Honey Paw.

Bangs Island mussels are featured in the New England Clam Bake at Eventide.

At The Honey Paw, Taylor uses Bangs Island mussels in dishes like a Vietnamese masa crepe (fried mussels, shrimp and tomatillo sambal, and maple dipping sauce) and at Eventide in a “New England Clam Bake”: mussels, clams, lobster tail, potatoes, salt pork, and a hard-boiled egg nestled into a bed of rock seaweed.

“Having Matt harvesting mussels less than a mile away and bringing them straight to our restaurant the day they’re out of the water — from a quality perspective, you can’t get better mussels than that,” says Taylor, whose �ֲ���ý food network also includes Eric Peters ‘86, proprietor of Norumbega Oyster Co. in Damariscotta.

“Then you add the additional benefits of supporting local agriculture, local businesses, keeping it all in everybody’s pockets in Maine. We feel really great about that, too.”

Moretti poses with one of his clients: Andrew Taylor ’03, chef and co-owner of three Portland restaurants, including Eventide Oyster Co.

Eventide has “always supported us with our mussels,” says Moretti, who counts that support to include his new venture into sugar kelp. “They enjoy taking a chance on some local, high-quality seafood, and they’ve been fantastic partners.”

Despite his national reach, Moretti feels a certain level of responsibility and privilege contributing directly to the Portland public.

“We employ people who live here,” says Moretti. “We buy as much as we can locally and enjoy sharing our mussels with the Portland community. I absolutely love that.”