May 26, 2026 — As the sun rises on a crisp early fall morning on Nantucket, many islanders are still sound asleep in their beds, but scallopers are already waist-deep in the harbor, dragging their dredges across the harbor floor in hopes of a first good haul. The harbor is still, the air sharp with salt, and the faint diesel hum of working boats carries across the water. For Captain Bob DeCosta, the quiet ritual is more than a livelihood. It’s a family tradition that has spanned three generations. His father taught him how to fish in the ’70s, just as DeCosta now takes his own son out on the water.
“I can’t imagine not scalloping,” said DeCosta, who operates a charter fishing boat in the summer. “I enjoy getting up early in the morning, being on the water, watching the sun rise and the tranquility that comes with it. After a full summer charter, it’s very peaceful. It’s almost like I’m not even really working.”
But the fishery DeCosta inherited doesn’t look like the one his father knew. Two decades ago, 250 fishermen worked on a fleet of 100 boats. Today, the fleet has shrunk to 50-70 fishermen on 25-30 boats. It’s an expensive job with low returns: Rigging a boat is costly, while wholesale scallop prices remain stagnant at $12 to $14 a pound. “The winter scallop fishery is the last real struggle for commercial fishing on Nantucket,” DeCosta said. “We don’t have the market we used to have. It’s become more of a niche item, a specialty item than a more robust market.”
Scalloping is one of the island’s last ties to its working waterfront. Whaling has long vanished, but scalloping preserves a piece of the island’s maritime culture. “Once scalloping is gone, we’ll just be known as a destination for tourists. It won’t be known as a water-related community anymore,” DeCosta said. Nantucket’s bay scalloping industry is one of the last of its kind. Similar fisheries on Martha’s Vineyard and Long Island have dwindled to nearly nothing.