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201912015 Nalional Geog'aphic Magazine- NGM.com

Do we countenance sucllloss because fish live in a world we cannot see? Would it be different if, as one conservationist fantasized, the fish wailed as we lifted
them out of the water in nets? Ifthe giantbluefin lived on land, its size, speed, and epic migrations would ensure its legendary status, with tourists flocking
to photograph it in national parks. But because it lives in the sea, its majesty-comparable to that ofa lion-lieslargelybeyond comprehension.

One ofthe ironies-and tragedies-of the Mediterranean bluefin huntis that the very act of procreation now puts the fish at the mercy ofthe fleets. In the
spring and summer, as the water warms, scllools of bluef'm rise to the surface to spawn. Slasbing through the sea, planing on their sides and exposing their
massive silver-colored flanks, the large females eacll expel tens of millions of eggs, and the males emit clouds ofmilt. From the air, on a calm day, this
turmoil ofreproduction-the flasbing offish, the disturbed sea, the slick of spawn and sperm-can be seen from miles away by spotter planes, whicll cali in
thefleet.

On a warm July morning, inthe sapphire-colored waters west ofthe Spanish island of lbiza, six purse-seine boats from three competing companies searclled
for giant bluefin tuna. The purse seiners-named for their conical, purse-like nets, whicll are drawn closed from the bottom-were guided by three spotter
aircraft that crisscrossed the skylike vultures.

Inthe center ofthe actionwas Txema Galaz Ugalde, a Basque marine biologist, diver, and fisherman who helpB run Eoolofish, one of 69 tuna ranching, or

fatteuiug, operations that bave spnmg up throughout the Mediterranean. A small company, Eooloflsh owns five purse seiners. lts main riva! that morning
was the tunabaron of the Mediterranean, Francisco Fuentes of Ricardo Fuentes & Sons, whose industrial-i!!cale operations bave been chewing up giant
bluefin stocks.

I was with Galaz on .La Viveta Segunda-a 72-foot (22 meters) support vessel that was part of the fleet ofdive boats and cage-towing tugs following the purse
seiners. Around 11 a.m., the spotter planes spied a scllool, setting the purse seiners on a 19-knot dash. The stakes were high. Even a small school of200
bluefin can, when fattened, fetcll more than half a million dollars on the Japanese market. Galazwatclled through binoculars as an Erolofish seiner reached
the school first and began encircling it with a mile-long (1.6 kilometers) net.

"He's fishing!" Galaz shouted. "He's shooting the net!"

Itwas not an unalloyed victory. Before Ecolofish's boat oould complete its circle, a Fuentes seiner rushed forward and stoppedjust short ofthe unfurling
net. Under one of the few rules that exist in the free-for-ali for Mediterraneanbluefin, this symbolictoucll entitled the competing boat to split the catcll
fifty-fifty.

Over the next severa! hours, Galaz and his divers transferred the fish-163 bluefin, averaging about 300 pounds (135 kilograms}-from the purse-i!!eine net
into the sea cage, a large holding pen about 160 feet (5o meters) in diameter, with a sturdyplastic frame supporting a heavy mesh net. As the pen, already
brimmingwith a thousand bluef'm caught in the days before, was aligned with the purse-seine net, Galaz invited me into the water.

Swimmingwith the tuna was mesmerizing but unsettling. Giant bluefin are, as Galaz put it, '1ike missiles, prepared for speed and power." Their backs were
battleship gray topped with a saw-toothed line of small yellow dorsal fins. Their sides had the lookofbattered chrome and steel; some bore the streak of an
electricblue line. The larger fish, weighing more than 500 pounds (230 kilograms), were at least eight feet (two meters) long.

One giant bluefin-some 300 pounds (135 kilograms) heavier and two feet (o.6 meters) longer than most of the others-caught my eye. It was not swimming
endlesslywith the scllool in a clock.wise gyre. lnstead, it darted in different directions, sullen and aggressive, nearly brushing against me as it scanned me
with large, black, disk-i!!haped eyes. There was something else: a stainless-steel hookembedded in its mouth, trailing a long strand of monofilament line. In
recent weeks, this fish had lunged atone ofthe thousands of baitedhooks set by a longline vessel. Somehow, it had broken free.

After untying the large m.esh gates on the pen, Galaz and his divers beganherding fish. Peeling offfrom their gyre, the bluefinwhizzed into the cage like
torpedoes. The fish with the hookin its mouth was one ofthe last to leave, but eventually it shot up from the depths and into the cage, dragging a diver who
hadhitched a ride on the line.

Erolofish's catcll was part of an annuallegal take of 32,000 metric tons in the Mediterranean and easternAtlantic. The true quantity, however, is closer to
between so,ooo metric tons and 6o,ooo metrictons. The group charged with managing bluefin tuna stocks, the International Commission for the

Conservation ofAtlanticTuna (ICCAT), has acknowledged that the fleet has been violating quotas egregiously. Scientists estimate that iffishing continues at

current levels, stocks are bound to collapse. But despite strong warnings from its own biologists, ICCAT-with 43 member states-refusedto reduce quotas

significantly last November, over the objections of delegations from the U.S., Canada, and a handful of other nations. Because bluefin sometimes migrate

across the Atlantic, American scientists, and bluef'm f'lShermen who abide by small quotas off their ooasts, bave long been calling for a large reduction in the

Mediterranean catcll.

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