The Fishing Widows of Bay St. Lawrence: Part 1
They were all fishers and all widows. One day, five years later, I scrounged up my bar napkin, called Theresa and headed back north.
The Fishing Widows of Bay St. Lawrence: Part 2
They were all fishers and all widows. One day, five years later, I scrounged up my bar napkin, called Theresa and headed back north.
The Fishing Widows of Bay St. Lawrence: Part 3
They were all fishers and all widows. One day, five years later, I scrounged up my bar napkin, called Theresa and headed back north.
The Fishing Widows of Bay St. Lawrence: Part 4
They were all fishers and all widows. One day, five years later, I scrounged up my bar napkin, called Theresa and headed back north.
The Fishing Widows of Bay St. Lawrence: Part 5
They were all fishers and all widows. One day, five years later, I scrounged up my bar napkin, called Theresa and headed back north.
The Fishing Widows of Bay St. Lawrence: Part 6
They were all fishers and all widows. One day, five years later, I scrounged up my bar napkin, called Theresa and headed back north.
The Fishing Widows of Bay St. Lawrence: Part 7
They were all fishers and all widows. One day, five years later, I scrounged up my bar napkin, called Theresa and headed back north.
The Fishermen & Night Patrol of Isla Chira—Where Tradition & Conservation Collide
So two by two, the fishermen began their night patrols. They remained committed to avoiding any violent confrontations; when their mounted floodlights lit the glimmer of a poacher’s vessel on the open water, they invited the offenders into their own boats to talk over the
