Talks on changes in fishery yield boycott, but also hope
NEWBURG —— The sun is just peeking over the treetops as Billy Rice steers his 24-foot boat, Miss Jill, out into the Potomac River.
Six days a week, in all kinds of weather, except lightning and high winds, the Charles County waterman and his helper and wife, Melinda, spend their mornings pulling crab pots from the water. Crabbing has been that way for decades.
But watermen across the bay are starting to acknowledge things need to change if their traditional livelihood is to survive. And this fiercely independent bunch — full of distrust of officials, and even at times of each other — is trying to band together to control their destiny.
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Six days a week, in all kinds of weather, except lightning and high winds, the Charles County waterman and his helper and wife, Melinda, spend their mornings pulling crab pots from the water. Crabbing has been that way for decades.
But watermen across the bay are starting to acknowledge things need to change if their traditional livelihood is to survive. And this fiercely independent bunch — full of distrust of officials, and even at times of each other — is trying to band together to control their destiny.
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