SoCal Aquaponics Team Blog

The magical taste of creamy oysters on the half shell, set against crisp table linen, elegant ambience, soft music and deferential table service: It seems far removed from an icy, wind-whipped Pictou County harbour.

But diners owe the experience to the naturally nutrient-rich waters of Merigomish Harbour and to the ingenuity, science and hand-numbingly hard work at Philip Docker’s ShanDaph oyster farm.

A snowy December day found Mr. Docker in an aluminum boat harvesting the oysters from a rectangular portion of the harbour to get the shellfish to a Halifax market in time. Another deadline loomed: The shallow water could freeze solid any day, making harvest even more difficult.

"I work from ice to ice," Mr. Docker said, adding that a single cold, windless night could freeze him out of his 1.6-hectare lease.

Except for large orders that make it worthwhile to hack dangerously through the ice, he stops harvesting at the end of December. The boats and docks are hauled from the water, with a few buoys as the only evidence of his aquaculture operation.

The word "aquaculture" may raise the image of constant application of fish food into a pristine body of water, but ShanDaph relies on the nutrients carried by the swift ebb and flow of the tide in and out of Merigomish Harbour.

"If you take out the boats, I put nothing in the water," he said. "I don’t feed them anything. Organic aquaculture — this is it. It had to be economically sustainable and environmentally sustainable, or it wouldn’t work for me."

He makes most of his equipment from recycled materials and harnesses solar and tidal energy, with a backup generator. The oysters are packed in handmade reusable crates of locally grown wood rather than plastic or Styrofoam.

Island neighbours encouraged him when he approached them before obtaining his first lease 10 years ago, he said. Local residents are historically accustomed to oyster harvesting, because Merigomish Harbour has produced the shellfish for hundreds of years. Disease wiped out the beds in the 1960s, but Mr. Docker’s grandparents reseeded the area with baby oysters and farmed for several years. ShanDaph is named after them.

Helping his grandfather as a small child piqued Mr. Docker’s interest in the oyster industry, which he followed up with a degree in marine biology. Then, restaurant jobs taught him that chefs and their patrons want a beautifully presented oyster on a half shell, as well as excellent taste.

But Crassostrea virginica grown in beds typically develop crooked shells as each fast-growing oyster enlarges its shell into any available space.

"There’s nothing wrong with the oyster and it doesn’t matter if you’re cooking them, but they’re not ideal for the half-shell trade," Mr. Docker said.

To serve oysters on the half shell, the shell must be cupped to hold the meat, which should be creamy and opaque at its peak quality, he said.

While there’s a lot more he’d like to learn, he has combined science and experience to produce the boutique oysters with minimal loss to predators and disease. He collects pepper-grain-size larvae on mesh devices suspended in the water, where they feed on nutrients floating past. As they grow they are sorted and cleaned, wintered in deep-water cages and summered in special bags. Cylindrical cages, which are rolled by the tides to keep the oysters moving, prevent the development of odd-shaped shells.

After three to five years the oysters are ready for sale at the Halifax Farmers’ Market or to restaurateurs. Success with oysters prompted him to add low-maintenance quahogs and finicky-to-grow but sweet-tasting bay scallops to his operation.

"It’s labour-intensive," said Mr. Docker, who does most of the work himself. "If you don’t want to work, this is the wrong business."

Come winter it’s all under water, he said as he stood in swirling snow to survey the aquaculture lease.

"My whole livelihood for the next seven years is in deep water," he said, smiling happily.

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