(This is a continuation of my previous post.)
 
So where does the Stewardship Ethic intersect the threads of some previous
issues raised on CONCH-L?
 
Placing value on shells -- specifically monetary value -- is a double-edged
sword which threatens to eclipse the sheer aesthetic joy of collecting.
Suddenly our first thoughts, upon turning over a dead coral head and seeing
a glistening Cypraeaid orb, run along the lines of "is it a rare species?"
Some of us are less value-oriented than others, but most who collect
Cypraea or Conus must feel a heady thrill at the idea of our little finds
commanding hundreds or even thousands of dollars.  It seems an empty echo
of the original ignorant bliss in finding something merely "pretty."
 
When I tell my friends unfamiliar with the hobby that my collection is
worth thousands of dollars, they stare at me as if I were quite mad.  We
all know the expression!  It's the
"you-mean-to-tell-me-you-paid-HOW-MUCH!?-for-these-things??" look.  They
admit the shells are lovely, but why buy them?  In the end we move on to
talking about this or that doo-dad they bought, a jetski or exercise
machine or what-have-you... and I hide a wry smile because it's proof that
one man's car is another's cowrie collection.
 
We all know that a shell is going to sell for as much as the "market,"
which is the shell-buying public, will bear.  It's only natural that once
enough shells come into circulation, and once money becomes a medium of
exchange for shells, enterprising individuals are going to become dealers,
who acquire stocks by collecting, trading, buying, or paying others to
collect for them.  Conchology has thus given birth to a corps of dealers
over the years, who supply hobbyists with shells they might not otherwise
collect, whether due to an inability to travel or a lack of trading
partners.
 
Dealers, as Rich Goldberg pointed out, get their shells from a variety of
sources. Most dealers are very conscientious about their suppliers and aim
to procure the highest quality of specimens possible, which is simply good
business practice.  In the instant age of email, it doesn't take any time
for stories of bad experiences with a dealer to get around.  Fortunately,
crooks don't last long in a market where trust and mutual satisfaction are
so critical to keeping customers, as in shell dealing.
 
When buying shells, I expected that the specimens would arrive in the
condition advertised, with complete data on the precise locality and
habitat of the animal.  Without good data, my collection is worthless as a
scientific tool, which is the fundamental reason I collect -- not solely
for myself, but for the museum which will one day receive my shells.  The
thought that I'm not just a greedy aesthete but doing a little something
for science is my justification for live-collecting, and an outgrowth of my
desire for "stewardship."  Good data and superb specimen quality are key
concerns of nearly all serious collectors, but not merely for science's
sake.  Most shells become essentially worthless when presented for sale
with little or no data.
 
I have found, however, that one person's idea of complete data does not
necessarily match my own.  When I inquired to get better data, I discovered
that dealers who buy from so-called "shell stall" suppliers or wholesale
dealers simply cannot tell me with certainly where a shell came from, what
its habitat was, or anything about the animal it belonged to.  A best guess
of the depth and local region was all I could get.
 
Is this the fault of the retail dealer who sold me the shell?  Not really,
so I didn't return the shells with incomplete data.  The fact remains that
those specimens are of minimal use to me -- although they may be every bit
as valuable since there is nominally "data" to accompany the shell.  I
still ended up feeling as if the creatures died for nothing.
 
One time I cut out the middleman, if you will, and made a friend in the
Phillipines with whom I exchanged shells.  He sent me very little data, and
when I asked him for more information, he could only respond that the
merchants from whom he bought the shells were very secretive about their
locality.  I was mystified until he explained that in the highly lucrative
shell wholesaling market of PI, giving an exact locality might mean a
competitor could strip a supplier's collecting area.
 
Good shelling areas are guarded as trade secrets now that shells have
become big business in the Phillipines and other Indo-Pacific tropical
areas.  This is one of the consequences of shells as commodity -- and it
means specimens retailed from local suppliers are all but scientifically
worthless because of their vague or misleading data.
 
In the Dec '89 issue of American Conchologist, Charles Glass wrote a
revealing article, "A Shell Dealer in the Phillipines," on the interaction
between retail dealers (usually Westerners) and local suppliers.  He
observed that in an economy where the average day's wage is less than a
dollar, wholesaling shells for even a tenth of their retail price is highly
lucrative work for a Filipino.
 
The entrepreneurial temptation is virtually irresistable when the reefs are
accessible for easy despoiling and both dealers and tourists are willing to
pay literally a year's wage for a few handfuls of mollusca.  The ranks of
suppliers have multiplied over the decades until the collection of shells
has become an industry, with armies of fishermen and their families combing
reefs and setting traps and tangle nets all around Cebu and other areas.
 
Shells are also big business in Thailand (Phuket) and Indonesia -- probably
even more so now that Asian economies are imploding and Western cash is
ever more precious.  Dealers may point out that not all retail shells enter
the market from "shell stall" sources, but a large number of Indo-Pacific
species do.  Few people, in North America at least, have the wherewithal to
travel and self-collect throughout the Pacific.
 
How else are collectors going to get specimens from these localities but
from dealers who traffic with local suppliers, directly or indirectly?
Unless one has friends who travel, or a local correspondent, it is usually
the dealers to whom we turn for hard-to-get species.
 
Poor data limits the scientific utility of shells retailed by dealers who
buy from "shell stall" wholesalers, but a collector's greater concern
really ought to lie elsewhere: namely, in the consequence of what the
commoditization of shells has created in the wholesalers' local economies.
From Phuket to Cebu to Java, an industry has grown up around the collection
in bulk of every type of shell and marketable reef life.
 
It has been well-argued that an individual even in a lifetime cannot do
permanent damage to a reef, but what of the unfortunate reef which is the
target of an industrious family of shell merchants?  Picked clean, it may
indeed recover in several years -- but will rarely be left alone long
enough to do so.  In areas where commercial shelling is prevalent, the
damage can only be termed severe.
 
So where shall we place the responsibility for the damage done by
commercial harvestation of reefs throughout the Indo-Pacific?  What should
we do, having found a guilty party?
 
We could argue that commercial shellers are to blame, since many use
destructive methods we abhor -- dynamite, cynanide, crowbars and other
ignorant practices.  We could call for governments to enact restrictions to
limit harvestation, and allow recovery time for damaged areas.  That
ignores the fact that locals are really just trying to feed their families
and make as much money as quickly as they can.  They don't understand that
the average reef takes many hundreds of years to build, and 2-4 years to
restart growth on areas where recovery is possible.  Perhaps they wouldn't
care if they they did know, but without the offer of Western dollars for
shells, there wouldn't be a shell-harvesting industry to ravage
Indo-Pacific reefs.
 
So, it becomes the fault of dealers who purchase shells in bulk, then?
Again, look to the almighty dollar for the answer.  Dealers do have the
option not to buy from shell stalls -- most of them are experienced
self-collectors and could certainly procure their own supplies of mollusca
without resorting to wholesalers.  However, this also ignores the fact that
dealers are simply supplying a demand which would not exist if shells were
not a saleable commodity.  No demand, no dealers, no wholesalers, no reef
harvest damage.
 
Ultimate culpability can only be laid upon the collective shoulders of the
shell-buying public.  By our demand for shells the easy way, we have
created a system which in part sponsors an industry dedicated to intensive
harvestation of marine reefs.  This is a direct result of the shell
becoming a commodity, a thing owned to be bought and sold.
 
It would be pointless to boycott dealers, most of whom acquire shells
responsibly through self-collection, exchange, and from private suppliers
whose activities are benign.  Dealers provide a service to those unable to
travel to areas where desired species are, such as South Africa and the
Indo-Pacific.
 
We can, however, insist on buying only shells collected by individuals, not
supplied by wholesalers who practice wide-scale reef harvestation.
 
When we choose to regard ourselves as stewards rather than simply
collectors, we assume a responsibility for how our shells come to us.  If
we collect nothing but dead mollusca, the dilemma is moot.  But if we buy,
exchange, or collect live-taken shells, we have important choices to make
on how we employ our shells.  It's beyond cleaning, bagging, and tagging --
it's a sense that what we're doing has significance beyond mere
acquisition, whether we use our collections to educate, to serve science,
or to promote public awareness of conservation.
 
I merely speak for myself, but I want to be more than a trophy-hunter.
Without a sense of stewardship, what are my shells but little skeletons in
a box, another brazen example of human selfishness?   I only suggest in
conclusion that we consider environmental accountability and the ultimate
consequence of shells becoming a commodity, before we continue to acquire
live-taken shells.
 
My thanks for your patience with these lengthy posts.
 
 
Jenny Scarboro
 
401 S. Twin Creek Dr #9C
Killeen, TX 76543 USA
email [log in to unmask]