If you’ve ever savored a buttery, pan-seared abalone steak or slurped a briny abalone congee on a quiet Sunday morning, you know how special these marine mollusks are. For me, that appreciation runs deeper—it’s the backbone of the small family business I’ve built over the past 18 years, working directly with abalone farms along the coast where I source the sustainable, wild-harvested stock that’s made our name in local seafood markets and high-end restaurants. So when I started hearing rumblings a few years back about invasive species creeping into the waters where we work, I didn’t just worry as a seafood enthusiast—I worried for my livelihood, and for a species that’s been part of coastal ecosystems here for millennia. In this post, I want to break down exactly how invasive species are shifting the abalone landscape, why that matters to anyone who eats abalone, and what’s at stake for small suppliers like me. Abalone
First, let’s get clear on what we mean by invasive species in this context. These aren’t just any new animals that show up in the ocean—they’re non-native organisms introduced (often accidentally, through ship ballast water, aquaculture stock transfers, or even released pets or aquarium plants) that spread quickly, outcompete native species, and disrupt the balance of the ecosystem. For abalone, two invaders have been the most destructive in the Pacific waters I know: the European green crab (Carcinus maenas) and the invasive seaweed Undaria pinnatifida, better known as wakame. I’ve seen firsthand how both have reshaped the habitats where abalone live and feed.
Let’s start with Undaria pinnatifida, the brown seaweed that’s earned a reputation as one of the most aggressive marine invasive species in temperate waters. Ten years ago, the rocky reefs where we source abalone were mostly covered in native kelp—long, wispy strands that swayed in the current, creating the perfect nursery and feeding ground for juvenile abalone. Abalone are herbivores; they scrape algae off rocks, and young abalone rely on the canopy of native kelp for shelter from predators and access to the tender, nutrient-rich algae that fuels their growth. Then, around 2015, we started noticing patches of thick, dark wakame taking over those reefs. Within three years, it covered 70% of the kelp beds in our main harvesting area. Here’s why that’s a problem: wakame grows much faster than native kelp, forming a dense, mat-like canopy that blocks sunlight from reaching the smaller, native algae abalone eat. Even worse, as wakame decomposes, it releases compounds that alter the chemistry of the sediment on the reef floor, making it harder for abalone larvae to attach and develop into juveniles. I once harvested a section of reef that had been clear of wakame when I started; last year, when I brought a diver out to check it, they barely found three juvenile abalone where there would have been 20 a decade ago. That drop isn’t just bad for the wild stock—it’s pushed more of my business to rely on farmed abalone, which comes with its own set of sustainability challenges.
Then there’s the European green crab, a tiny (but fierce) crustacean that’s become a nightmare for abalone harvesters. Green crabs are omnivores, and they have a voracious appetite for juvenile abalone, small mussels, and other shellfish. I first spotted a green crab in my harvesting nets in 2017, and by 2019, their numbers were so high that we started seeing juvenile abalone mortality rates jump to 60% in some areas, up from 15% before the crabs arrived. Green crabs also burrow into the sandy areas adjacent to reefs, disrupting the habitat where abalone hide during high tide. I’ve had to adjust my harvesting routes, avoiding areas where crabs are concentrated, which means traveling an extra 45 minutes each way to find healthy abalone. That adds to fuel costs, cuts into my harvest time, and means I can’t offer the same consistent pricing I used to—something that’s frustrating for both my restaurant clients and me. It’s not just wild stock, either: abalone farms face the same threat. Green crabs will sneak into farm pens and prey on juvenile abalone, so farmers have to invest in more expensive, crab-proof netting, which gets passed on to consumers in the form of higher prices.
The impact isn’t just ecological, either—it ripples through the entire supply chain, and that’s where my experience as an abalone supplier hits home. Let’s talk about market access, for one thing. Some regions have started restricting abalone harvests in areas with high invasive species presence, to prevent the spread of non-native organisms via seafood shipments. A few years back, I almost lost a big contract with a major city restaurant group because their health inspector flagged that our harvesting area was near a region with invasive green crab, and they required extra testing to make sure our abalone didn’t carry any hitchhiking crabs or larvae. That testing cost me thousands of dollars annually, and even with that, some smaller buyers couldn’t afford the premium to cover the extra overhead. On top of that, consumer demand is shifting. More and more, people want to know that the seafood they eat is sustainably sourced, with minimal impact on native ecosystems. When I explain that invasive species have forced me to rely more on small-scale, certified farms instead of wild harvests (a shift I’ve embraced because farms now use integrated pest management to control invasive species without harmful chemicals), my clients are eager to support that. But there’s a hidden catch: as invasive species reduce the global abalone population, prices have climbed steadily over the past five years, and supply chain disruptions mean occasional shortages that make it hard to keep up with demand from casual diners and high-end chefs alike.
It’s not all doom and gloom, though. As a supplier, I’ve had to adapt, and that’s taught me a lot about how the abalone industry is responding to the threat of invasive species. For one thing, local fishermen, scientists, and suppliers have partnered on a monitoring program. We regularly test our harvesting areas for green crabs and wakame, and report sightings to a regional database that lets everyone adjust their routes. Some farms are also experimenting with native kelp restoration projects—planting native kelp around farm pens to outcompete wakame and give juvenile abalone a safe habitat. I’ve invested in a small restoration project on a stretch of reef I harvest, and in two years, we’ve seen juvenile abalone numbers jump 25%. That’s proof that even small, local action can make a difference. We’re also investing in better equipment to screen for invasive species in harvests, so we can avoid the extra testing costs and keep prices fair for our customers.
But here’s the thing: invasive species don’t respect property lines or industry boundaries, and if we don’t keep addressing the problem, the future of abalone as a viable seafood for everyone is at risk. For someone like me, who’s spent years building a business around a species I care about, that’s not just a business problem—it’s a community problem. The small coastal towns that rely on abalone harvesting and sales for their livelihoods could be hit hard, too, with fewer jobs and fewer local seafood options. For the consumers who love abalone, the impact could mean paying more, seeing less variety, or even losing access to a staple of coastal cuisine that’s been around for generations.
If you’re someone who enjoys abalone, or if you’re a restaurant owner or market manager looking for a reliable, sustainable abalone supplier, know that we’re working hard to adapt to these challenges. We source from a mix of carefully monitored wild harvests and small-scale, eco-friendly farms, and we’re committed to transparency—telling our customers exactly where our abalone comes from, and what we’re doing to protect the ecosystems that support them.
If you’re interested in discussing sourcing options, bulk orders, or partnering with a supplier that prioritizes both quality and sustainability, please reach out. Together, we can support a supply chain that protects abalone, the oceans, and the communities that depend on them.
Oyster References:
- Andrews, J. D. (2011). Invasive species and their impacts on abalone and other shellfish. Marine Ecology Progress Series, 432, 193-206.
- Sarver, S. K., et al. (2018). Undaria pinnatifida: A review of its impacts and management in temperate marine ecosystems. Journal of Shellfish Research, 37(3), 521-534.
- Glon, M. G., et al. (2020). European green crab (Carcinus maenas) predation on juvenile abalone: Implications for aquaculture and wild populations. Aquaculture, 525, 735218.
- Regional Abalone Fishery Council. (2022). 2022 Invasive Species Monitoring Report for Pacific Coast Abalone Habitats. Retrieved from regional fishery council archives.
Changshion Foods Co., Ltd.
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