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March/April 2010

On the Ebb of a Tide


The shad is the most important fish of the Hudson, being very delicious as food, and caught in such immense numbers, as to make them cheap dishes for the poor man’s table. They enter the Hudson in immense numbers towards the close of March or beginning of April, and ascend to the head of tide water to spawn. It is while on their passage up that the greater number and best conditioned are caught, several hundreds being sometimes taken in a single “catch.” They generally descend the river at the close of May, when they are called Buck Shad, and are so lean and almost worthless, that “thin as a June Shad” is a common epithet applied to lean persons…

Benson J. Lossing, The Hudson, from the wilderness to the sea, 1866

Photo: Anthony G. Taranto Jr.


In November, New York’s Department of Environmental Conservation announced that this spring, for the first time, it will close the shad fishery in the Hudson River. It’s no secret that shad, a fish that in many ways defines spring in the Hudson Valley, has come upon hard times in recent years. Its numbers have remained at historic lows, and it continues to show the classic signs of a population in distress. As much as anything, however, the DEC’s decision reflects alarm at what is not known. Why has the shad declined so, even as this river has—famously—grown so much cleaner? We can only hope that the mystery will be resolved, and soon. But now, as the days grow longer and new buds begin to tint the branches, the bleakness of this milestone can be felt in the marrow: in this ancient stream, how many hundreds of generations have passed since the last spring when no one set a net for shad?

Writing in 1913 about his own memories of growing up beneath the Palisades, William O. Allison observed, “There probably were few places in this [Bergen], or any other county, where so good a living could be obtained with so little effort. The river … teemed with fish of every sort, and the shad fishing during some six weeks in the spring was often profitable enough to support a family for the rest of the year.” As recounted here by Bob and Edna Wilson (“Of Times and Tides,” May-June 2008), shad fishing boomed along the Palisades during the Depression years and into the 1960s. In March 1947, National Geographic featured an article called “Shad in the Shadow of Skyscrapers”; more recently still, people remember seeing the shad nets along the river as they crossed over the George Washington Bridge.

Copyright Palisades Interstate Park, Scanned Image Library (SIL), all rights reserved.    Copyright Palisades Interstate Park, Scanned Image Library (SIL), all rights reserved.    Copyright Palisades Interstate Park, Scanned Image Library (SIL), all rights reserved.    Copyright Palisades Interstate Park, Scanned Image Library (SIL), all rights reserved.    Copyright Palisades Interstate Park, Scanned Image Library (SIL), all rights reserved.

For us, in this park, it was in 1987—at Ross Dock—that Chris Letts, an educator for the Hudson River Foundation, first held one of his famous public shad bakes. He’s come back every year since, in his chef’s hat and apron, with a cooler full of fresh shad filets. We supply bags of charcoal, which Chris cuts open on the ground and lights. As the coals heat up, he nails the filets with strips of bacon onto hardwood planks that have been seasoned by dozens upon dozens of shad bakes, up and down the river. By noon he’s standing these in front of the fire, fussing with them, as he talks. He talks: His passion for this river—and for shad—is boundless. With the help of some amazing volunteers, by two o’clock the filets have come off the planks and sampler plates of smoked, pickled, and freshly baked shad—still warm—are served up, all courtesy of the River Foundation, to whomever is at hand.

Photo: Anthony G. Taranto Jr.    Photo: Anthony G. Taranto Jr.    Photo: Anthony G. Taranto Jr.

Photo: Anthony G. Taranto Jr.    Photo: Anthony G. Taranto Jr.

For the past few years, we’ve had Chris set up shop at the Kearney House at Alpine, tying the shad bake to the “living history” approach we’ve adopted there. It’s become the “kick-off event” of our program year, bringing together human history—and natural history; the living river—and the people whose lives and livelihoods have depended upon its mysteries of life and death and renewal. Thaddeus MacGregor, our favorite songster, has played; among other friends and guests, Nancy Slowik of Greenbrook has donned period garb with us to prepare an herbal “spring tonic” in the kitchen; Barry Keegan of Hawk Circle has demonstrated Native American skills and crafts; Jennifer Kleinbaum of Tenafly Nature Center has set up an interactive table about marine life. For 2010, to be held on Saturday, May 1, we’ve also invited our “neighbors” across the river at the Beczak Environmental Education Center in Yonkers to join with us, coordinating with the legendary sloop Clearwater for what we’ve termed a “Ship-to-Shore” event.

Photo: Anthony G. Taranto Jr.

Photo: Anthony G. Taranto Jr.    Photo: Anthony G. Taranto Jr.    Photo: Anthony G. Taranto Jr.

As this goes to the printer, however, Chris doesn’t yet know if he’ll be able to bring any shad to this year’s “shad bake.” If not, he has told us he will have another fish—this year—to nail to his planks, and in that case we still intend to call our event “Shad Bake at Mrs. Kearney’s tavern.” This year. For it seems to us—to the staff, our volunteers—to me—that we ought to keep the tradition of a Hudson River shad bake alive, for this one more spring at least.

And next year, if the fishery remains closed?

For now, we will leave that to next year.

Eric Nelsen


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Palisades Interstate Park Commission