With the end of lobster season here, I can’t help but find it a tad ironic that Valentine’s Day marks the final day for lobster love. It’s no wonder that sappy poetry and professions of undying love come to mind when this bittersweet time of year comes around. “So long my tasty morsel, my plate is empty without you!”
For the lucky lobster the closed season coincides with their reproductive season, how apropos! Maybe we should we send them off with champagne and romantic music? This is a critical time for populations to recuperate strengthen and recover, so we say, “Go forth and multiply young longostas”!
As we all know, interrupting crustacean copulation is just plain rude, so please keep in mind that eating lobster between February 15th and June 15th is a big no no. Without this protection, these populations would most certainly disappear within our area, not only having a detrimental effect on our marine ecosystem but diminishing the livelihood of local fisherfolk and culinary tourism.
That said, we end this public awareness message with a poem, penned a few years ago by then-islanders Sharon Metcalfe and Cassidy Brown.

Ode to The Lobster

O Poseidon! What hath your salty waters reared?
A creature whom the sea stars rightly feared,
With pincers sharper than a rosebuds thorns,
And shell so red it surely should have horns.
Our cages gently sway on ocean floors,
To welcome little lobsters in their doors.
The true king of crustaceans he must be,
To have the poet down on bended knee.
The crab, the conch, the mussels can’t compare,
To ocean waters ruled with lobster flair.
And when I know he’s mine, my hearts a-flutter;
I long to dip his flesh in garlic butter.
Whether he was boiled, baked, or steamed,
He tasted even sweeter than I’d dreamed.
To duel those mighty claws, it is a risk
Rewarded by a feast of creamy bisque.
This tender dish no mortal can refuse,
When skillful chef adopts him as his muse.
His crimson crusted shield, my soft-shelled heart,
Will break if they are ever forced to part.
So thanks be to the lobster- small and strong-,
Your season is too short, the wait too long