Is it ethical to eat Maine’s native brook trout?

By V. Paul Reynolds

June was an especially good month for me, trout wise.

I have a confession, though. A couple of pink-meated, native brookies made it into my iron skillet.

The sun was setting in Northern Aroostook County while the trout and salt pork sizzled over an open fire. I’ve been visiting this place for almost half a century, and this time my two middle-aged sons were there to share the moment. 

These are indelible, precious memories.

In Maine, there are two state chapters of venerable fish conservation organizations: Trout Unlimited and the Native Fish Coalition. They are, as a matter of policy, strongly opposed to the killing and eating of any native brook trout taken from a State Heritage Fish Water.

Approximately 585 of Maine’s self-sustaining brook trout lakes and ponds are protected under the State Heritage Fish law. The implication then, is that perhaps I should have felt a tinge of guilt as I smacked my lips in gustatory delight.

I fully support the special status and protections these Heritage Waters receive. I also recognize and appreciate the work that Trout Unlimited, the Native Fish Coalition and other advocates have done to elevate awareness about the importance of conserving genetically intact brook trout populations.

Still, I am troubled by the message — sometimes explicit, often implied — that any angler who harvests a legal limit of native trout from a State Heritage Fish Water is acting unethically. 

While I understand the appeal of zero-harvest as a precautionary approach, I don’t think it’s fair to cast moral judgment on anglers following regulations set by Maine’s professional fisheries biologists.

Maine’s Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife has long managed these waters with sustainability as a top priority. In fact, some Heritage Fish Waters are catch-and-release only, while others only allow the take of one trout. 

These rules are not arbitrary. They reflect biological assessments, angler impact studies and a desire to protect the long-term health of the fishery.

When I choose to keep a single, native trout for the pan, I do so with reverence for the fish, the place and the tradition it represents. This is not greed — it is gratitude. The suggestion that such a choice is beneath some higher ethical standard undermines the idea of conservation as a shared responsibility among diverse outdoor users.

At its root, this is ultimately a values debate, not just a biological one. Trout Unlimited and the Native Fish Coalition hove to the preservationist ethic of “Don’t take anything. You can’t be too

careful.” However, my sons and I embrace the stewardship ethic of: “Use wisely, respect limits and trust the science”.

Angling ethics should be guided by intention, knowledge and respect for place instead of guilt-tripping or purity tests. If you honor the resource, follow the law and support sustainable fisheries — you are part of the solution, not the problem.