
Lewis Carter, 79, has been oystering and crabbing since he was 15 years old. DENNIS FORNEY PHOTOS
A warm and sunny afternoon in late March. Light winds. A dozen or so deadrises still oystering out on Broad Creek.
Many of the boats have already come in; the earliest, two young divers who have been the first to get their 12-bushel limits for many days now.
Price has been holding steady at $35 per bushel to the watermen. Pretty much about that all season. When the wild season ends, the bushel price may nearly double for cultivated oysters. Supply goes down, demand holds steady for another couple months, price goes up. Like the tides, up and down.
Last day of the 2024-2025 wild oyster season is just around the corner: March 31. On April 1, the 2025 crabbing season opens.
Two of the vessels working the hand-tonging waters on this day carry watermen many generations apart in ages.
A third vessel, Bobby B, carries a waterman and his partner, Ann Barrett, who shares the culling chores. They’re underway toward the dock to offload.
Jason Gay can’t wait for the season to end.
“So many boats out there, after six months it’s getting harder and harder to get our oysters.”
They’ve been oystering many years. Six-month seasons, starting Oct. 1. When March 31 arrives, they’re ready for a change of pace. Then it will be about six months of crabbing. When October rolls around, Jason will be glad to trade his trotline for his hand tongs. That’s the rhythm for these watermen.
“I’ll probably start crabbing in mid April,” he says. “Get the boat cleaned up and then go.”
Tonging oysters off the bottom is dirtier work than dipping crabs from trotline baits.
Off will come the tongs and culling tables. On will come the canopy to provide shade against the sun, along with the trotlining gear: baskets and nets and measuring sticks.

Jason Gay is ready for the wild oyster season to be over.
Out in the creek, men aboard the two other generations-apart vessels have finished tonging. They’re near the end of their culling: separating legal-size oysters from the smalls with sharp blows from their metal hammers, tossing over empty shells to catch next year’s spat, filling their final baskets of the day.
Lewis Carter works by himself. “No January, no February for me,” he says. “Can’t stand no cold. Used to break ice to get out here but no more. I’m 79 years old. Been doing this since I was 15. 64 years. Charles Bryan took me on when I was 11, culling oysters, cleaning up. Quit school when I was 15. Other than time in the Army, I’ve been at this ever since.”
Lewis says he opted for the water to make a living. “Back then the minimum wage was 75 cents an hour. Figured I could do better on the water.”
Lewis trotlines summers out of Kent Narrows, mostly in Cabin Creek and Chester River. He lives nearby in Queenstown but brings his boat down to Broad Creek in the winter for oysters. “They won’t let you oyster in the Chester, only certain times they have reserved.”
He says he doesn’t like the sanctuaries the state has in place where oystering is prohibited. He doesn’t think the sanctuaries are doing much for the Chesapeake’s oyster populations. “The oysters have always taken care of themselves.”
He named his boat after his granddaughter, Chelonte. “I bought it off of Capt. Warren Butler. He had 17 boats over the years. This was his last one.”
He said this year’s been a good oyster season. “Good oysters, about the same as last year. I guess I’ll keep on doing it until I can’t do it any more. It’s better than settin’ home, waiting for death. I’ll meet him halfway.”
A few hundred yards away, also working the typically productive bars of Broad Creek, just north of the Choptank, Kadan Longenecker and Severn Cummings agree that the 2024-2025 season has been a good year despite the ups and downs of the market.
Kadan says the bars are in good shape with lots of little ones still coming. “You can see the growth in them.”
Many decades younger than Lewis, they worked right on through January and February, as long as they had market and weather cooperated. They’ll follow suit with Lewis, switching to crabbing. They will start in April
But Lewis said he won’’t start until probably the middle of May. He’ll take his time switching his gear, giving his lean and hard body a rest, letting the air and water warm up, but giving little thought to staying home as he enters his eighth decade of life on the Chesapeake.
Dennis Forney has been a publisher, journalist and columnist on the Delmarva Peninsula since 1972. He writes from his home on Grace Creek in Bozman.