As a Marylander, I have always appreciated the Chesapeake Bay. My resonance with the seafood–blue crabs and oysters of the Bay–has always been strong despite being a vegetarian since birth. It is impossible to reside in Maryland without feeling a sense of pride for not only these aquatic species, but the ecosystem which breathes life into them.
The Chesapeake Bay is Maryland’s jewel, the largest estuary in the entire world. It is an economic staple for states in its watershed, supporting 20,000 jobs annually and producing billions in revenue through seafood sales, tourism, and recreation. It is also a victim of climate change, dead zones, and most relevant to wildlife, overfishing. This past year, I’ve found my attention drawn to the oyster and its unique history in the Chesapeake Bay, conducting an in-depth research project of their relations with society with the support of the CEDAR Gallery.
My research has led me to explore many different primary sources—editions of my school newspaper dating back to the 1950s, journal articles published in the 1930s, and images of old oyster cans—to understand how oysters have become so overfished. The most interesting artifact that I have examined is a map labeled “Unknown” on the University of Maryland’s map archives. It was digitally categorized as a map of Maryland with no further context, and I couldn’t resist taking a look at this map to see if its story aligned with my study of Maryland oysters.
The map ended up being a fairly accurate depiction of the state’s outline, despite a few spelling variations—notably Rockville spelled Rookville and Upper Marlboro referred to as Marlbro. It has notes imposed upon Maryland’s land listing minerals, ores, and substances found across the landscape. It is a mapping of natural resources, with a legend stating commercial uses of the various resources. There is no date, author, or official use listed, therefore all analysis of this map is based on my own interpretation. I see this map as an excellent tool to understand how Indigenous protection of a species was exploited for industrial gain, leading to population declines.
Indigenous communities in Maryland had an extremely sustainable relationship with oysters. Communities gathered the species in minimally invasive ways, either using their hands or wooden hand rakes. This method caused minimal, if any, impact on oyster habitats. The population size and health of the species were well-maintained before colonization and industrialization, exemplified by large collections of shells scattered across the state, known as oyster middens. These structures are a testament to balanced relations with the species, as studies of midden shells prove that the sizes of oyster shells are generally the same, pointing to a stable population of mature oysters over generations. This study also proves that the shells of oysters have been decreasing in size since colonization, highlighting unsustainable relationships with the species since colonization.
The map emphasizes the large role of oysters in Indigenous cultures. Two parts of the map note locations where oyster shells were so prevalent they became part of the state’s foundation.
Shell marl, located near Easton and the Choptank River, is a soil that has high amounts of calcium carbonate produced by invertebrate shells. Additionally, shell fossils are found near Centerville and the Chester River, meaning remains of invertebrate shells can be found in the soil. The sustainable use of oysters by Indigenous communities embedded oysters deeply into the shores of Maryland, a testament to the role of the species in Maryland’s cultural and geological history.
Following the colonization of Indigenous land, the traditional and sustainable methods of oyster collection were discarded in exchange for more profit driven ones. Manual labor was replaced with mechanical, as monstrous dredges were outfitted onto fishing boats. Factories popped up across the state to stuff oysters into flimsy tin cans, wrapping them up with cheap plastic branding—which, for a time, championed cruel caricatures of Indigenous men. Oyster populations plummeted as industrialists took over Indigenous land, water, and imagery for a paycheck.
The map of Maryland can also be used to highlight the industrial history of oysters in Maryland. The legend outlines various manufactured articles that can be produced in the state, including lime, which is made by burning oyster shells. Since the 1700s, lime was used in brick mortar and fertilizer, spurring demand for its production. Locating shell marl and shell fossils using this map could have created a route to mass-producing lime for manufacturing. The places where oysters were naturally found, and where Indigenous groups maintained their populations, were exploited to create industrial products.
Investigating the intersections between history, geography, geology, social justice, and environmental science can tell the story of oysters holistically. The story does not begin after colonizers came from Europe to the “New World”. It begins with Indigenous voices, culture, and traditions. Using primary documentation like maps is crucial to understand past and present relations between society and the environment. By learning how Indigenous communities interacted with the species, oyster futures can aim to replicate similar relations.
Rachel Carson National Environmental Leadership Fellow Khushi Desai
Khushi Desai (they/them) is a sophomore studying Environmental Science and Policy at the University of Maryland, College Park (UMD), with a minor in Science, Technology, Ethics, and Policy. They are a member of the Honors College, serving as an Honors Ambassador for the program. They are also a part of the UMD Federal Fellows program, where they take specialized coursework on environmental and energy policy and will complete an internship in the field. At UMD, Khushi is the outreach coordinator for 17 for Peace and Justice, an environmental justice organization.
