It can be all too easy to forget, but the natural world inhabited by the fishermen, fishmongers, divers, traders and missionaries discussed in this book was different from ours today. Species that might have been common in the eighteenth century might now be rare or, as in the case of the European eel or angel shark, even critically endangered.1 This realisation necessitates a reflection on the role of the historical sources of natural history in understanding past occurrences and distribution which can be of help in protecting these species and their aquatic environments now and in the future. This epilogue set outs some of the opportunities, challenges and considerations in using historical sources in this way.
Such a reflection can be guided by the notion of baselines: reference points for the occurrence of a species. These standards lie at the basis of policies for contemporary conservation efforts. The problem with baselines, however, is that they shift. Interestingly, this problem was first articulated in the context of fish, when fisheries scientist Daniel Pauly introduced the concept of the shifting baseline syndrome in a short but influential article. He explained it thus: scientists accept as baseline the stock size and species composition that they encounter at the beginning of their careers, and use this to evaluate change. When the next generation starts its career, the stocks have further declined, but it is the stocks at that time that serve as a new baseline.2 Reference points for the occurrence of species thus change imperceptibly yet radically. This also extends to the public at large, who might find it hard to believe, for example, that the grey whale could commonly be spotted from the coasts of the North Sea during the seventeenth century.3 The largest issue is that nature conservation agencies set measures in order to return to a certain baseline, unaware that this very baseline itself is subject to change. As a result of this, the policies they draw up for the conservation and preservation of species â despite coming from the best of intentions â are far less ambitious than they could be.
Solution is to be found in anecdotes, according to Pauly. By this he means testimonies of past large catches that bring historical consciousness to a field of research that is very much focused on the present. These testimonies can take the form of oral history, for example by interviewing multiple generations of fishermen.4 Fisheries scientists, fish biologists and fish ecologists can also profit from the natural historical sources discussed in the present book, as these offer insight into the presence of certain species in previous centuries, and indicate whether these, for example, were once common stock in regions from which they have since disappeared. This is where the tool kit of the historian is particularly handy. Especially when it comes to sources that stem from the early modern period or earlier, several kinds of expertise are required. These include archival know-how, paleographical proficiency, the ability to read neo-Latin, an understanding of the people of places of the period at hand, and a good grasp on historical taxonomy.5
Even though historical sources are treasure troves of observations, some caution is needed. Ecologists tend to seek unambiguity: they combine binomial, scientific names of species (and even subspecies) with clear geographical signifiers, preferably with coordinates. Such a level of exactitude is rarely found in historical sources from the early modern period. It can, for example, be hard to discriminate between similar-looking species depicted in manuscripts, books and on paintings.6 In descriptions, species might be denoted on a more generic level (such as âcetaceanâ or âspecies of carpâ), whereas the location where they are observed is not always made spatially explicit (like âin our lakesâ). What is more, boundaries of territories have shifted over time and these territories might now go by other names.
Despite these challenges, however, there are good examples of how historical evidence can prove useful for revealing past distribution of species populations. An analysis of Adriaen Coenenâs Visboeck by fisheries researchers yielded general insight into the presence of species in Dutch coastal waters, which they conclude have now lost part of their richness.7 More specific information is found in an annotated copy of the Historia piscium in the possession of the Welsh customs officer Lewis Morris (1701â1765), to which he added detailed descriptions of his encounters with angel shark (Figure 24). Through an examination of this copy, fisheries researchers have found evidence for the long-term importance of certain stretches of the Welsh coast for this shark, and have argued that these should be appointed a designated area for the conservation of this now critically endangered species.8
Historical sources that offer semi-quantitative indications, such as ârareâ, âabundantâ, âin great numbersâ or âvery well providedâ are of particular importance to ecologists. These statements are often combined and contrasted with other kinds of evidence. For example, Hans Sloaneâs mention of the âgreat, long prickled Sea Eggâ, which he found â[â¦] in great numbers on the reef by Gun-Key, or, Cayos off the Port Royal Harbourâ is taken as one piece of evidence for the long-term presence of Diadema, a genus of sea urchins in the Caribbean, alongside fossil finds.9 Other archival sources that give an (indirect) insight into the relative abundance or rarity species include historical economic statistics of the market price of a fish, charter books that detail the regulation of fishing rights, or decrees regarding the trade of fish. In the seventeenth century Dutch Republic, for example, the price of a salmon equaled the weekly wage of a labourer.10 Taken together, these sources can serve to extend points of reference further into the past, but their interpretation requires care and rigour.
How to reconcile the names for species in various languages? After all, species names come in more languages than the scholarâs Latin. As we saw, Willughby and Ray were already well aware that understanding of the dispersal of species constituted a linguistic puzzle. In an attempt to solve this problem, Artedi used no fewer than 109 pages for his Synonymia nominum piscium [Synonyms of fish names], a compilation of such synonyms in various languages.11 A contemporary iteration of this kind of synthesising effort is the online database FishBase, of which aforementioned Pauly was one of the initiators.12 This directory incorporates earlier databases, such as Eschmeyerâs Catalogue of Fishes which documents revisions of Latin fish names from the tenth edition of the Systema naturae (1758) until the present; as this was the first edition of this work to consistently apply binomial species names, it is regarded as the starting point for scientific nomenclature.13 Other sources on which FishBase draws include recent scientific papers as well as historical publications like that of Bloch and Bleeker. The database includes common names for fish from 350 languages. Efforts such as these help to plot the occurrence of species beyond linguistic borders.
Collating names in various languages, however, is not a matter of assembling interchangeable data points. To the contrary: as the scientists behind FishBase state, fish names offer ecological and biological information as well as important clues to their cultural context.14 In this regard, Blochâs book series is not only interesting for the Latin names it includes. As Bloch consistently included the local names for those fish that he received from the Coast of Coromandel, his book series also stores valuable information about common names in Tamil. It appears that these historical, common names for fish have not yet been added to databases of fish names. If the many species names that Tamil collectors and other contributors in South India shared with John (who then passed them on to Bloch) were to be added, they could fulfil several research purposes. Because they are connected with the Latin species names offered by Bloch, they expand the list of known synonyms. They could also be etymologically studied, allowing for a historical comparison between early modern and contemporary names of fish, which might yield interesting clues to their spread and usage over time. Last but not least, they point to the colonial context in which these species were collected.
This brings us to an important concern for historians when it comes to the large scale digitisation of natural historical data: namely, the risk of reduction. In the wish to compile data from historical sources, observations of species tend to be reduced to the locality where the species at hand is found combined with its currently accepted species name. This decontextualisation holds for the written sources that have been so far discussed in this epilogue, but mostly for natural historical specimens. Over the past years, millions of the natural historical specimens that sit patiently on the shelves of museums have been digitised, usually as part of an effort to share knowledge about species within global infrastructures. With increasing digitisation, however, comes an increased need to think critically about such infrastructures and the kinds of information that they contain.15
Researchers have to contend with an absence of data especially when it comes to consulting digitised natural historical objects that stem from a colonial context. Andreas Weber and Esther Turnhout argue that natural historical specimens can and should be kept connected within the context of their colonial provenance by linking the digitised specimens to the rich stores of archival material surrounding them.16 Far from simply satisfying the curiosity of the historian, this contextualisation builds and sustains a critical awareness of the colonial structures upon which our present-day knowledge of the worldâs natural riches rests. Furthermore, if this context were to be removed from digitised specimens, past practices of effacing the many colonial contributors of natural knowledge (voluntary or not, as discussed in Chapter 4) would be perpetuated.
There is one further dimension to discuss. Historical sources show us how awareness that the supply of fishes is vulnerable and requires protection is in itself not new. A fascinating example of this is the petition by the guild of London fishmongers mentioned in Chapter 2. In this petition, the fishmongers called on the city parliament to take action in protecting the supply of fish in the rivers, streams and the sea coasts. âThe citty of London,â they wrote, âhath not bene for some years last past furnished with soe large a supply of fish as formerly it hath bene whereby all sorts of fish doe come to the petitionersâ hands at such high rates.â17 A number of causes was listed for the decline of the fish population, alongside measures for improvement. The fishmongers requested to ban the use of casting nets with which the fry and brood are âtorne to peeces, & not suffered to come to its maturityâ, claiming that such a net once killed 1600 salmon smelts in one cast. But they also flagged issues of pollution in areas where dyers and tanners were dumping wastewaters into the river. A further issue that they mentioned are closed flood gates which hindered free passage for salmon smelts during spawning. The petition appears surprisingly topical.
In sum, historical sources on fish accommodate a wealth of insight. Their value lies on different levels. We can consider them as treasure troves of historical data of species occurrences for those wishing to reconstruct shifting baselines â with all the interpretational labour such data require. They also provide important insight into the global, colonial context in which our contemporary knowledge of the underwater world took shape. Moreover, they are sources for comprehending how people in the past thought about how to conserve the life in rivers, streams and seas. Ultimately, they show the importance of people coming from positions of practice and theory, from the humanities and the sciences to work together to fathom the sheer abundance and variety of species that dwell in on the earthâs vast recesses of water, now and in the past.
Engraving of an angel shark annotated by Lewis Moore. Francis Willughby and John Ray, Historia piscium (Oxford: Sheldonian Theatre, 1686), tab D3. Supplied by Llyfrgell Genedlaethol Cymru / National Library of Wales
Alec Moore and Jan G. Hiddink, âIdentifying Critical Habitat with Archives: 275-Year-Old Naturalistâs Notes Provide High-Resolution Spatial Evidence of Long-Term Core Habitat for a Critically Endangered Shark,â in Biological Conservation 272 (2022): 1; Cinzia Podda, Francesco Palmas, Antonio Pusceddu and Andrea Sabatini, âWhen the Eel Meets Dams: Larger Damsâ Long-Term Impacts on Anguilla anguilla (L., 1758),â in Frontiers in Environmental Science 10 (2022): 8.
Daniel Pauly, âAnecdotes and the Shifting Baseline Syndrome of Fisheries,â in Trends in Ecology and Evolution 10 (1995): 430.
Marc Argeloo, Natuuramnesie: Hoe we vergeten zijn hoe de natuur er vroeger uitzag (Amsterdam: Atlas Contact, 2022), 171â172.
Andrea SaénzâArroyo, Callum M. Roberts, Jorge Torre and Micheline Carinõ-Olvera, âUsing Fishersâ Anecdotes, Naturalistsâ Observations and Grey Literature to Reassess Marine Species at Risk: The Case of the Gulf Grouper in the Gulf of California, Mexico,â Fish and Fisheries 6, no. 2 (2005): 121â133.
See also: Victoria Pickering, âMobilising Historical Botanical Data as Research,â Nuncius 39, no. 3 (2024): 768.
Anne M. Overduin-de Vries and Paul J. Smith, âFishing in the Past: Biodiversity, Art History, and Citizen Science â Preliminary Results,â in Smith and Egmond, Ichthyology in Context, 311.
Floris P. Bennema and Adriaan D. Rijnsdorp, âFish Abundance, Fisheries, Fish Trade and Consumption in Sixteenth-Century Netherlands as Described by Adriaen Coenen,â Fisheries Research 161 (2015): 384â399.
Moore and Hiddink, âIdentifying Critical Habitat with Archives,â 3.
J.B.C. Jackson, âReefs since Columbus,â Coral Reefs 16 (1997): 26.
Rob Lenders, âThe Historical Truth behind the âSalmon-Servantâ Myth,â in Smith and Egmond, Ichthyology in Context, 460.
Further discussed in Aili and Pietsch, Peter Artedi: Reformer of 18th Century Zoology, vol. 1, 70â72.
https://www.fishbase.org/ (last accessed 15 February 2025).
https://researcharchive.calacademy.org/research/ichthyology/catalog/fishcatmain.asp (last accessed 15 February 2025).
Katarina Zimmer, âWhatâs in a Fishâs Name?,â Nautilus (12 March 2024), https://nautil.us/whats-in-a-fishs-name-530331/?trk=feed_main-feed-card_feed-article-contentâ(last accessed 15 February 2025).
Tiziana N. Beltrame, Elena Canadelli, Luca Tonetti, âThe Natures of Digital Practices: People, Objects, and Data Mobilities in Natural History Collections,â Nuncius 39, no. 3 (2024): 741â758.
Andreas Weber and Esther Turnhout, âA Langur from Sumatra: Digital Futures, Material Presents and Colonial Pasts,â Nuncius 39, no. 3 (2024): 787.
Petition, RS Cl.P.15i/8, Classified Papers, f1r.