HARPSWELL - The two scuba divers poke their heads up through the rolling waves and launch immediately into an argument that seems as though it began underwater. Below their treading flippers, a veneer of green sea urchins stretches across the rocky ocean floor, proof, says one diver, that the species is returning to the cold waters of Casco Bay in numbers not seen since the boom of the early 1990s. But the second diver is unimpressed. His annual population surveys show the species slipping ever closer toward extirpation from the Maine coast. The two men, Harpswell sea urchin diver Brian Soper and Department of Marine Resources biologist Rob Russell, have had this debate before. And they repeat it again, this time on an April afternoon in the chill waters off Cundy's Harbor, salt water spraying from their mouths as they press their respective points in vain.

While fishermen and biologists have disagreed year after year on the best ways to manage the urchin fishery, this year's debate is particularly fevered as the department prepares to make the biggest cuts yet to the urchin fishing season.

On Monday, the Department of Marine Resources Advisory Council will meet to set the sea urchin fishing season for the upcoming year. If it approves the department's recommendation, the season would be slashed from 94 days to 10 in southern Maine and from 94 days to 45 along the northern coast. "That's huge. We've never reduced a season like that before," said Maggie Hunter of the Department of Marine Resources. If the advisory council rejects the proposal, the department has to start over to formulate a new plan, a process that could take months.

The proposed reduction is almost universally opposed by urchin harvesters like Soper, who say the stocks are recovering. But to fisheries biologists, shortening the fishing season is the only way to ensure the continued existence of the fishery, that is, if it isn't already stressed beyond repair. "It's great that they're coming back, but our position is, let's leave them alone," Hunter said.

The rise of the urchin fishery New England fishermen have harvested the green sea urchin on a small scale since prehistoric times. A round, spiny animal about the size of a tennis ball, the green sea urchin is prized for its edible roe, the pulpy orange internal organs that serve as the creature's reproductive and energy storing devices. In Japan, the roe, or "uni," is a delicacy in the sushi market. By the early 1900s, sea urchin divers were selling their catch in Boston and New York, where French, Spanish and Portuguese immigrants ate the roe during Christmas holiday celebrations.

The market expanded to Europe by the 1970s, when divers began flying urchins there. It wasn't until 1987, however, when the Japanese developed a new way of packaging roe for the mass market, that the sea urchin fishery in Maine truly exploded. While sea urchin populations in other parts of the world were crashing, Maine urchins were blooming, so much so that they had become a pest to lobstermen, who complained that they clogged traps. The urchins also decimated kelp beds and generally were considered to be as indestructible as dandelions. "They were just a nuisance thing," according to Patten White, executive director of the Maine Lobstermen's Association and a member of the Pew Oceans Commission. "We were thrilled when the urchin fishery boomed." The fishery flourished before anyone could think twice about it.

By 1994, when urchin landings were at their peak, there were 2,725 licensed Maine sea urchin divers and draggers who harvested 38 million pounds of urchins that year, according to Department of Marine Resources data. But just as soon as the $33 million industry exploded into existence, the sea urchin population began to disappear. "There weren't any controls until the horse had left the barn," White said.

Fast fall in the 1990s, the Maine Department of Marine Resources and harvesters began to take steps to slow the overfishing of the urchin. The Maine Sea Urchin Zone Council formed to advise the department. The fishery was divided into two management zones - Zone 1 from Kittery to Rockland and Zone 2 from Vinalhaven to Eastport. The department also imposed limits on harvestable size and fishing days. Still the sea urchin biomass dwindled. The department estimates that 65,000 tons of sea urchin once blanketed the ocean floor off Maine. Now, the biomass is estimated to be a mere 9,000 tons. As urchins disappeared, kelp and seaweed began to thrive again on rocky ledges, a welcoming habitat for species like the Jonah crab, which preys on the urchins.

In some locations, even though fishing has stopped, urchin populations are consumed by crabs before they can grow to a marketable size. When the urchin population declined, so too did the number of fishermen harvesting them. By 2003, there were just 742 licensed harvesters. Of those, only 291 fished more than 10 days a year, according to marine resources department data. "There are very few guys making a complete living on sea urchins," said Russell, the marine resources biologist. Even though fewer people are still doing it, they still are taking more than can be sustained by the existing population, Russell said.

In parts of the world with sustainable urchin fisheries - British Columbia, Alaska and New Brunswick - fishermen harvest no more than 2 percent to 6 percent of the existing biomass. In Maine in 2002-03, fishermen were taking an estimated 38 percent of the urchin stock, according to the department, though it's difficult to know precisely because Maine has only been conducting surveys since 2001.

This year's debate This is why Soper believes the urchin populations are healthier, at least in some places, than the state is estimating. State surveys never accounted for how bad it really got, he said. "At one time there was not an urchin in this bay and now all of a sudden there's more and more sea urchins," he said. "I've been watching the densities come back and come back and come back. I say that we already accomplished what we set out to do and that is sustain our industry." Soper, who was born in Castine, started scuba diving before he ever started fishing. He fell into urchin diving in 1988 because he was looking for a way to make a living through diving. By 1990 he was doing it full time. Eight years later, as urchins disappeared, he left Casco Bay for Muscongus Bay in search of larger stocks. But when urchins came back, he returned to the waters off his wharf on Oakhurst Island Road in Harpswell.
Soper, who wears a blue wet suit and proudly describes how many tanks of air he can consume in one day, likes to talk. Except for the time he spends under water, he does it constantly. And when the subject is fishing, he does it with passion.

On a clear day in April, Soper convinced biologist Russell to join him urchin diving off Cundy's Harbor. He wanted the scientist to see how many urchins now exist where once there were none. As his boat, "Surf," steamed out into the bay, he stated his case: Cutting the urchin season to 10 days will decimate the industry when such cuts are unnecessary because so few people are fishing urchin these days. Russell, a red-head with a matching wet suit and a bushy red mustache, agreed to keep an open mind because he wanted to know if his surveys were underestimating the urchin populations. It only took one dive for Russell to become convinced that his surveys weren't wrong, that the population is imperiled and that even though there seems to be a vast number of urchins, the population isn't what it once was. To Russell, opening up the season would be like picking off a scab: the skin will never heal if you don't leave it alone.

"If you're taking any portion of that right now, isn't that hurting the resource as it's starting to step back up?" Russell asked. To the biologist, the important number is not how many urchins there are, but how many can be sustainably harvested. While no one knows that number, Russell believes too many are being taken.

Soper was not convinced. "We've got urchins back in lobster traps already," he said. "What I'm saying is they're coming back tenfold. You don't have any idea how fast they're coming back." Even if cutting the season to 10 days helped the population, he added, it wouldn't matter because such a short season would essentially make it economically unfeasible to maintain the urchin industry in Maine. Chris Byers, an urchin buyer in Winter Harbor and a member of the sea urchin zone council, which advises the Department of Marine Resources, agrees. "It's going to put all our processors out of business," he said Thursday. Byers purchases urchins directly from the harvesters - he pointed out that landings in zone 2 were up last year over the previous year - and then sells the catch directly to processors in Portland, Massachusetts and New York. The processors remove the roe and ship it to market. Byers notes that urchin processing requires skilled labor and such jobs cannot be sustained unless the catches are higher than what the state's proposal would allow. Byers wants the state to impose a 64-day season in zone 2 and a 40-day season in zone 1, which he believes is the minimum the industry can sustain.

He also points out that for some fishermen in zone 2, there are no job opportunities besides fishing. "Washington County is the poorest county in the state. There are a lot of full-time urchin divers and they're going to have to do something," he said. The department is not blind to these concerns, but officials say that if the season isn't limited, the industry will be destroyed anyway. "The stock is so low at this point, that 10 days (in zone 1) may even
be too much," Hunter, of the marine resources department, said. According to the department's estimates, zone 1 harvesters will face a 90 percent loss in the value of the harvest if the season is reduced to 10 days. Last year's zone 1 catch was valued at $2.1 million. In zone 2, where the catch last year was worth $6.7 million, harvesters could see a 50 percent drop in the value of their catch next season.

"This has been my life for 16 years," Soper said. "I'm not saying we need to fish more than we are, but we can continue doing what we're doing. What we're trying to do is hold on to our industry. In the state of Maine,
there's absolutely nothing else left to do."