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Lack of standards tarnish aquaculture industry, operator says (11/03)

Gord Cole flings a handful of feed pellets into the swirling waters of the floating pen hoping to coax a fish to rise. In the mesh-lined cage below, a shadowy swarm of thousands of rainbow trout dart about like wayward torpedoes.

Gord Cole flings a handful of feed pellets into the swirling waters of the floating pen hoping to coax a fish to rise.

In the mesh-lined cage below, a shadowy swarm of thousands of rainbow trout dart about like wayward torpedoes.

“They’re a little wary of this net,” says Cole, who lunges with a long-handled dip net at one cornered fish attempting to elude capture.

Within a day, these market-sized trout of about a kilogram each will be trucked to a St. Thomas processing plant for filleting. From there they are destined for a supermarket freezer case by week’s end or to appear on a restaurant menu in Toronto, Detroit or Chicago.

Cole and business partner Stan Fairchild maintain about 30 floating cages of 30,000 and 40,000 square feet on the site of the old commercial dock in Depot Harbour, just south of Parry Sound on the Wasauksing First Nation.

Known as Aqua-Cage Fisheries Ltd, they employ 12 people, mostly from the adjacent reserve.

Cole considers himself a pioneer in the use of Norwegian-style fish farming in fresh water. He works exclusively with rainbow trout, acquiring the four-inch long fingerlings (about 10 to 12 cm) from several private hatcheries in southwestern Ontario and nurtures them up to market size over 14 months.

While Cole will not disclose the number of trout he annually raises and harvests, he admits it is a struggle to start such a business and stay with it.

“We’re not getting rich but it’s not a bad living,” says Cole, who has worked on government hatcheries, fish farms and holds a University of Waterloo honours biology degree.

Like any other method of farming, it is a risky business. Very expensive to get into, and it is subject to market fluctuations and whims of nature. Storms and ice can wipe out pens, and lingering winter weather can stunt fish growth.

As fish farming methods become more sophisticated and the cost of production increases, profit margins per pound of fish start to shrink.

“I’m getting less per pound than when I started in 1982,” says Cole, “In the early 1980s I was getting $1.90 to $1.95 per pound” as opposed to $1.75 today.

“I need to produce more fish per unit of labour margin.”

According to the University of Guelph, the 170 Ontario private fish farms in 2001 produced about 4,135 tonnes of rainbow trout with a value of $16.1 million.

Lake-based cage culture of trout in Georgian Bay accounts for nearly 80 per cent of that total production.

Aquaculture in Ontario has been practised since early in the 20th century by the provincial government, primarily for lake and stream stocking, as well as the rehabilitation of natural fish populations.

On Lake Huron, fish farming remains a relatively small industry, perceived by some environmental activists and cottage owners as harmful but by industry watchers as having great potential for economic growth.

Operators on Manitoulin Island have clashed with cottagers and fisheries agents over allegations about fish waste and high phosphorous levels.

As well, the worldwide industry has been tainted in the past by inexperienced operators or bad methods utilized at large scale open-water salmon farms in British Columbia, Chile and in Europe, he says.

As a result, the industry’s image has taken a beating from groups including the David Suzuki Foundation, over escapes, genetic pollution, water quality and environmental impacts to ocean bottoms.

Cole harbours no reservations about his operation, having held a government-issued Certificate of Approval since 1982. He maintains that a well-run, near-shore operation poses no threat to the environment.

“I’ve got 20 years worth of my own water sampling,” says Cole, who continues to conduct water quality standards testing as part of his company’s licensing requiring and also keeps a fish veterinarian on retainer to monitor water quality and fish health.

But Cole has a few complaints of his own and they are directed at the provincial fish management agencies, who he maintains, are shirking their responsibilities to set water quality standards for the industry.

He believes there is a “huge anti-aqua culture sentiment” within the Ministry of Environment who prefers to act only when complaints are filed. They refuse to implement a co-ordinated and coherent policy on water quality as a way of properly managing the industry, he claims.

The Ontario Aquaculture Research and Services Co-ordinating Committee (OARSCC), a stakeholder group of fish farmers, researchers and government technicians, indicated in their annual report last October that Ontario possesses all the infrastructure and expertise necessary to support a larger fish farming industry, but a “confused regulatory framework” surrounding aquaculture is stifling growth of the industry.

The OARSCC report also states there is also plenty of confusion arising from the management of public waters and private investment which has placed an “unofficial moratorium” on establishing new fish farms or expanding existing sites.

“We try to be responsible operators,” says Cole, “but that doesn’t mean everybody that gets into the business...are going to responsible and knowledgeable enough.”