Menhaden
Unfortunately, the menhaden
will soon be more extinct that Latin,
since they are fast-depleting assets
which, overfished for fatty acids
with which we our lipstick and our paint
and salmon feed without constraint,
no longer thrive, and can’t be found
where they once were. Long Island Sound
is muddy now, like Chesapeake,
the Bay where fishers used to seek
these fish that filter water and
make sure it isn’t full of sand
and algae that cause it to be
as fresh as they every sea
should be. Their loss should sadden
our hearts more than the loss of Latin.
Few people now care for the Aenid,
and for the sea, when algae green it,
will care still less, and once we’re forced
to give up fish for liverwurst,
until all livers are depleted,
we’ll realize that we’ve been cheated
by being led to think that there
will always be some food somewhere
to eat. Perhaps there won’t be any.
Not long ago there were so many
menhaden, but we’ll have to fast
once we found out we’ve killed the last.
Inspired by an article on the disappearance of the menhaden by Paul Greenberg, the author of “Four Fish: The Future of the Last Wild Food” (“A Fish Oil Story, ” NYT, December 1,2009) :
If you are someone who catches and eats a lot of fish, as I am, you get adept at answering questions about which fish are safe, which are sustainable and which should be avoided altogether. But when this fish oil question arrived in my inbox recently, I was stumped. I knew that concerns about overfishing had prompted many consumers to choose supplements as a guilt-free way of getting their omega-3 fatty acids, which studies show lower triglycerides and the risk of heart attack. But I had never looked into the fish behind the oil and whether it was fit, morally or environmentally speaking, to be consumed. The deal with fish oil, I found out, is that a considerable portion of it comes from a creature upon which the entire Atlantic coastal ecosystem relies, a big-headed, smelly, foot-long member of the herring family called menhaden, which a recent book identifies in its title as “The Most Important Fish in the Sea.” The book’s author, H. Bruce Franklin, compares menhaden to the passenger pigeon and related to me recently how his research uncovered that populations were once so large that “the vanguard of the fish’s annual migration would reach Cape Cod while the rearguard was still in Maine.” Menhaden filter-feed nearly exclusively on algae, the most abundant forage in the world, and are prolifically good at converting that algae into omega-3 fatty acids and other important proteins and oils. They also form the basis of the Atlantic Coast’s marine food chain. Nearly every fish a fish eater likes to eat eats menhaden. Bluefin tuna, striped bass, redfish and bluefish are just a few of the diners at the menhaden buffet. All of these fish are high in omega-3 fatty acids but are unable themselves to synthesize them. The omega-3s they have come from menhaden. But menhaden are entering the final losing phases of a century-and-a-half fight for survival that began when humans started turning huge schools into fertilizer and lamp oil. Once petroleum-based oils replaced menhaden oil in lamps, trillions of menhaden were ground into feed for hogs, chickens and pets. Today, hundreds of billions of pounds of them are converted into lipstick, salmon feed, paint, “buttery spread, ” salad dressing and, yes, some of those omega-3 supplements you have been forcing on your children. All of these products can be made with more environmentally benign substitutes, but menhaden are still used in great (though declining) numbers because they can be caught and processed cheaply.
12/16/09
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Related quotes
31
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some things that can happen with a fish
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Is it really like fishing?
They say there is many fish in the sea to choose from.
But have you ever gone fishing?
They say do not worry they are like fish you lose one then get a fresh one.
But have you actually gone fishing?
They say you can be picky when fishing your fish.
But have you been in the sea and fished?
They even say some actually smell like fish.
But have you really smelled a fish?
They say there is plenty of fish in the sea.
But have you actually gone and counted the fish in the sea?
They say once you catch that perfect fish, you are bound for a good life.
But have you caught that perfect fish they all speak of?
They say some fish can be beautiful.
But have you seen any beautiful fish?
How can one compare a fish?
They are not alike.
How can one say it is as easy as finding a fish?
It is not a simple task.
How can they say there are so many fish in the sea?
When there are so many fishers who have yet to catch.
Can you really compare life and love to a fish?
The answer is of course not.
You can’t.
Impossible.
Unreal.
Not imaginable.
Unbelievable.
Unrealistic.
A fairy tale.
poem by ReubenJames Rodriguez
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Tiny Rhyme
Fish oh! fish
swish a miss
wish on hiss
shush to hush
Push push
oh! fish
flush a blush
fresh 'n' mush
Fish oh! fish
slush the gush
slash in gash
splash the plush
Fish oh! fish
pose to posh
rush a mash
fish oh! gosh!
poem by Mubeen Sadhika
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When I remember the fish
When I remember the fish,
The river longed me to go,
Wriggling and meandering, slippery in this
Imaginary waters of my world,
I become a fish.
When eye sea them eat the fish;
They cast their nets for a random catch, they
Drop their hooks for a strangling pull, then,
I become a fish no more.
When them fail to catch the fish;
As the fish wriggles an escape,
Then eye long to be like one as eye
Wonder whether or not am a fish.
©1998
poem by Akachukwu Chukwuemeka
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The Fish Year
Marico brought back a tank with salt water from Brazil,
Wnetta bought small stones and water plants from pet store,
The red fish and black fish were got from
Hua’s backyard pond,
After Chris checking the filter
and water temperature,
everything is set,
and the fish is ready to grow and bred.
Gundi feeds the fish everyday,
and watches them day and night.
The red fish swim up and down,
The black fish swim down and up,
The green water plants swing their long leaves
upside down.
We can hear the talk from the tank:
One lady, two ladies, three ladies…
One man, two men, three men…
American, German, Chinese, Brazilian,
Indian, Russian…
The fish is counting! ! !
Counting the people in the lab!
Maybe they learned the counting from Gundi,
Gundi is a great mathematician,
She always counts when she watches them:
One fish, two fish, three fish…
Red fish, black fish, red-black fish…
That’s our first fish year,
we expect to have the second, the third,
and then for ever.
poem by Dongming Zhou
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{{{ A Special Fish For Me? }}}
Yes there are many fish out in the sea,
but why can't I find one that will
best suit me,
well, I mean the fish in the sea are free,
yet all I keep doing is coming up is empty,
I start to believe,
then I begin to see, that, well, there just isn't one out there for me.
I go down to the sea, and I just look around,
well, again, there are no fortunate fish to be found!
Everyday I still continue to go down by the sea and sit down on the sand,
I look across the ocean and wonder is there another kind of
land to see,
to be able to relax and not have to act on command?
There is a fish for me,
because this is the way I was told it IS to be,
there has just gotta be that
special fish for me!
poem by Linda I. Weischedel
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Cat Fish
Cat fish play and leap witter-wotter. Over slow yonder. Purple mountains, apple skys, and jam taste like yip. Yap cat fish grew, so fast they licked ripe grass. Lumber slumbers in cat fish numbers. Lovers and muggers fall in deep cat fish reign. Cat fish took a long slumber on there yonder and were eaten by cat fish toddlers. The end!
poem by Shania K. Younce
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Swedish Fish
Green or red, goodnight, remember
Green is best of all the flavours
Go ahead, its only water
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
Hes my secret wish
Talk to me, I need attention
Tell me all of your confessions
Tell me if I cease to mention
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
Hes my pisces gift
Im never coming back
I am too far gone
Wont you be heading this way
Before too long?
Im holding on you
To you
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
Hes my secret wish
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
Hes my favourite gift
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment Story 24
A weak fisherman caught a strong fish in his net and not being able to retain it the fish overcame him and pulled the net from his hand.
A boy went to bring water from the torrent.
The torrent came and took the boy away.
The net brought every time a fish.
This time the fish went and carried off the net.
The other fishermen were sorry and blamed him for not being able to retain such a fish which had fallen into his net. He replied: ‘O brothers, what can be done? My day was not lucky but the fish had yet one remaining. ‘Moral: A fisherman cannot catch a fish in the Tigris without a day of luck and a fish cannot die on dry ground without the decree of fate.
Tanks For The Memories
tank you, tank you, tank you
we told the fish, those wonderful fish
those little tropical fish, that could reboot our dreary days
we could imagine their little fish politics and why one was chased
the tail nippers, the food stealers, the baby filled fish mothers
what wonderful memories I have of the fish tanks of yesterday
and today, now that my child has befriended the fish
relax, techno man, relax
and just rest with the fishes
poem by Louis Marvin
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A Whale Of A Poem
Recently,
As stories go,
A tale was told,
About an old man,
And a fish,
He really wasn't a real fish!
He was a whale you know!
Anyways,
It seems that fish shallowed the man,
And inside the fish he did live,
Seven days and seven nights.
Oh what a fright,
That man did go through,
He inside of a fish,
Could have easily ended up his dish.
That story although a whopper,
I thought could not have been top,
Except in the second grade,
A student chimed in,
Oh great, now I know where my dad has been!
poem by Nadalia Bagratuni
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Fish of a Different Color
Big fish and small fish
Swimming here in this pond
Fast fish and slow fish
And now one is gone
Poor, foolish fishes
Just make a few stronger
And watch how these fishes
Devour each other
To be the small fish
I'm sure none would bother
But oh, don't you wish
You could make the pond smaller?
I've found my own niche
To live my life fuller
For I am a fish
Of a different color
Fish And Rice
Daniel phoned me today
with his usual two year old exuberance
which comes naturally when you are two
and comes naturally when you're fifty two
until you extinguish it with old damp habits,
and he said
'Fish! Fish! I like fish very much!
Daddy, fan fan, fan fan', (Chinese for rice)
and yes Daniel has already mastered
three languages, English, Mandarin and enthusiasm
the last of which he is most adept at.
Well I thought he was enjoying his fish supper
but not so, and I should have known,
this exuberance could not be the result of food
unless perhaps a rare taste
of smooth creamy chocolate.
No he was feeding fish,
fish with an appetite for rice?
No, but no one had told him the ingredients of fish food
or me for that matter
and of course he was right,
as far as the fish are concerned
this was indeed the rice of life.
And he was now suddenly very upset
standing in the corner, arms folded, despondent
what happened? I asked
I am told by my reporting wife
that there had been a message I had missed,
and should have known.
Feeding fish is more essential for happiness
than eating fish,
and on his return home, freely swimming happy fish
should be waiting for his love and bliss.
poem by David Taylor
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Remembering A Friend Through The Fish
we keep when we were children
our treasures in a form of a fish
inside our own little secret ponds
we never intend to share them at first
we fear the adults who steal
we dislike them minding us
telling us that fish is not interesting at all
that the pond is just a very small world
where our minds are convoluted
like intestines of a fish
do you remember the flood
of adult water spreading rising higher than our knees?
it was very sad
all the fish we kept were taken away by the indifference
of the majority
we give up
we went to other places
and then we became too lonely
they want us to hate the fish
to be like them
and so here we are still keeping the fish
in anger.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fish Out Of Water
I feel so out of place here
With this high society
These high fallutin people
Dont know what to make of me
I feel like a minnow in a sea of moby dicks
A small fry in a big pan
Theyre caviar -- Im fish sticks
Fish out of water
I know I dont belong
Fish out of water
Everything I do is wrong
My style of hair, the clothes I wear
The way I speak, the things I eat
The way I act, my lack of tact
Nothin seems to fit
Fish out of water
Flounderin round
Out of my element
But Im just as good as they are
Why do I feel second rate
Its like, sorry charlie,
We want only tuna with good taste
I guess you could say wal-mart
Is quite a way from guccis
Im timex, theyre rolex
Im captain ds, theyre sushi
Fish out of water
Ive had it to the gills
Fish out of water
With these yuppie-guppie frills
Yeah, Im a square in a round hole
A catfish in a goldfish bowl
A little fish with lots of soul
Out of my element
Fish out of water
Flounderin round just for the halibut
Save me, save me
S.o.s. somebody
Save me, save me
Somebody rescue me
Fish out of water
Somebody throw me in
Fish out of water
On a scale of one to ten
Im a two, perhaps a three
Compared to the big fish in the sea
Im washed ashore so save me please
Im in an awful fix
Fish out of water
Rescue me
And you better do it quick
Fish out of water
Its such a culture shock
Fish out of water
My stomachs tied in knots
Fish out of water
Fish out of water
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Old Man Who Likes To Catch Fish
A old man in a barage
likes to catch fish in a pond which is large
by fishing in day and night
he gets a lots of fish
he eats all fish in one day
poem by Shun Mathi
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The fish in me
Iam vegan, but! There is a fish in me.
The selfishness in me starts fuming,
..Every now and then makes me feel like crawl,
I make my world as small as possible,
Am I selfish?
Whenever “this fish” dominates
Its only one letter work “I”, “I” and “I”, I ponder
“This fish” screech
What about me? ? What about me? ?
This fish is whirling in the sea of jealousy,
I wish this sea of jealousy get dried up
And the fish to die in want of water.
poem by Tara Chettur
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I Think I, ll Eat Fish Again
Well they do say its good for you
All those fishy oils, omega 3
Lots more choice on the menu for me
Not like eating meat, farmed intensively
Well anyway not usually
Fish have enjoyed their lives swimming free
Then netted, dragged from water to air
Wrenched from the sea a hook through the lip
Helplessly flapping they silently die
Their mouths moving they utter no cry
And maybe this is the reason why
We can eat fish again you and I
poem by Alan Bienvenu
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Gallant maiden...Lets fish...
Lonely stream, where do you depart with your lover?
Lovely maiden, why do you walk on this lonely stream?
Lovely song brace with echoes...
I fish this stream my lovely maiden...
I can't fish...
Come, lets fish...
If you were this fish...
I will take care of you...
Come, i can't eat this fish...
We caught...
Where my gallant maiden, Where do you live?
You make me question this stream...
You make me guard our departed stream...
Come lets fish...
Lets, start over...
Before, this stream drys out...
Before, we can no longer fish again...
Oh, expire fish i treasure your bone for my lost lover...
I held you in my heart forever and ever...