Tales of traps: ocean connection in the Andaman Islands

Written by Dr Paul Montgomery, Ph.D. Research Fellow, Trinity College Dublin, Ireland.

Image of solitary Moorish idol Zanclus cornutus, idols over the shallows of coral reef in the Andaman Sea. Flanked by the Giant Clam Tridacna gigas hidden under a corral ledge of the Island of Koh (Ko) Rok National Park Protection Unit No. 1 (Koh Rok) หน่วยพิทักษ์อุทยานแห่งชาติที่ ลต.1(เกาะรอก) Thailand. © Paul Montgomery.

In late 2022 and early 2023, I travelled to the Andaman Islands of Thailand, a place where the sea shapes daily life. Along these coasts, fish traps made from wood and nets remain a common sight, used by communities over many generations.

Historical records suggest that this kind of fishing was once the core method that sustained life in the Asia Pacific region. Although industrial fleets dominate the horizon today, traditional practices such as fish traps have endured in many coastal communities, carrying forward knowledge, resilience, and memory.

Part of my aim for this trip was to understand how local fishing communities have changed and adapted to the impact of modern fishing and the tourism boom ongoing in this region.

As a maritime archaeologist, my interest is to search for the physical remains that give us important insights into how we have adapted and evolved with the ocean. By studying the design of these traps and how local fishermen use them, I aim to understand the deeper mechanics and complexity of human cognition when interacting with the marine environment. Through this we can get a deeper understanding of how humans, without modern science and technology, interacted with their marine environment. 

My travels in this region brought back many memories of my own childhood spent investigating the coastline of South Dublin.

As a child, I learned to cope with dyslexia by focusing on the natural world, and archaeology was the perfect metaphor for my inner lexical struggles - the process of comprehending incomplete information with just partial written records.

Indeed, many of my teachers probably felt that reading my written work as a schoolboy was akin to hieroglyphics. As a boy, the depth and richness of the sea fuelled my thirst to know more and understand why humans have always been drawn to the coastal zone.

Our oceans have been investigated through many lenses, including history, biology, ecology, and social sciences. Understanding human development has always involved looking at our relationship as individuals and communities with the Ocean. Looking out onto a liminal zone has been a rich source of non-written evidence that extends back deep into human history, even before technology like boats was invented.

My interest in this topic was driven by a gap within the historical written record regarding our understanding of the human past relationship with the ocean. For most of our history, the ocean has always been a blank canvas that the sciences and scholarship have attempted to understand. However, scholarship has recently started to focus on complex and well-established traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) that communities gathered as they interacted with the marine environment. Through their day-to-day interactions, communities have, over generations, developed an understanding of the balance between their actions and their impact on their environments.

Image of a cluster of corals and a parrot fish Chlorurus sordidus browsing on its surface at the offshore reef Mu Ko Lanta National Park (Thai: อุทยานแห่งชาติหมู่เกาะลันตา) Krabi Province, Thailand. © Paul Montgomery.

From the front garden to the coral gardens

During my stay in the Andaman Islands, I had the opportunity to visit several coastal and offshore islands as part of my research into the fish trap traditions of the region. Walking around the islands, one observes a stark contrast between the heavy development of tourism and the local farming and fishing of coastal communities, each creating pressure on the fragile ecosystems. To understand the nature of this activity, it is necessary to begin not on the coast but rather in the front gardens of local fisherpeople, where many of these traps are constructed.

Small trap fishing boats rest on the sand at low tide in the harbour of Ban Saladan, Krabi Province Thailand. © Paul Montgomery.

In Thailand, fish trap fisheries operate along coastal shorelines and among coral and artificial reefs, which are among the most productive yet vulnerable marine ecosystems in the region. On Ko Lanta Yai (Thai: เกาะลันตาใหญ่), a small island in the Andaman Sea, local communities - including Buddhists, Thai-Chinese, Muslims, and indigenous groups such as the Moken, Moklen, and Urak Lawoi - maintain fishing traditions that have endured for generations. Many fishermen construct traps in their yards and deploy them from small boats onto the seabed near reefs or in shallow waters. They use a variety of designs, from rectangular traps to barrel-shaped Lob or Saiyai traps, and smaller Bubu traps, crafted from local wood, bamboo, rattan, and nets. These methods, honed over centuries, reflect deep knowledge of the sea and a delicate balance with the fragile reef ecosystems they rely upon.

Pictures of small barrel shape wooden fish traps in the garden of fisherman island of Ko Lanta Krabi Province Thailand. © Paul Montgomery 

The construction of these traps is an example of an artisanal fishing activity that is still carried out by using locally available wood resources like mangrove wood and supplemented with netting or chicken wire. The wood is a mix of local durable “green” wood, unworked and left with its bark on, to make the trap last longer (6 to 8 months use) in the water. While watching the traps being made, how the local fishmen utilise anything at hand, from old cables and bits of metal fencing to putting on the tape, belies the level of understanding and skill they have honed during their life. It is humbling to observe a group of fishermen pulling together a pile of sticks and random stones to make a tool for fishing. 

These types of passive fish traps can be set and checked every couple of days, generally, a large number of species are found within the traps. The fishermen of the Andaman Islands utilise a form of fishing that addresses aspects of their subsistence day-to-day living, but also as a commercial fishery. The primary species in which they are interested are the high-value species, which are caught in traps, such as groupers and snappers, Emperors and sometimes crustaceans and cephalopods [1]. However, the removal of these top predatory and herbivorous fish can have disastrous effects on reef food chains. 

Pictures of large wood fish traps with vegetation fixed on at the beach of Ko Lanta Krabi Province Thailand. © Paul Montgomery

Interviewing fishermen about their favourite fishing spots invokes their own personal map of the underwater world, with shallow reefs, shifting currents, and deep channels—all of which they navigate instinctively.

I must confess, initially I struggled to understand their description of the sea, as it was not bottom up or top down, not confining itself to a construct of land or sea that I was familiar with from my studies. Rather, it was a dynamic tangle of wind, water, and current. The fishermen were always mentally conscious of the movement of water, currents and wind, which influenced their boat's movement on the surface relative to their traps on the seabed.

The fisherman of the port of Ban Saladan travel to sites across the local area, sometimes venturing further into the Andaman Sea to drop off their traps and let them soak for several days. In small open boats, the possibility of preserving the catch is limited, other than small ice boxes with ice and seawater mixed together. When they return to the port, there is a buzz of activity in the warmth of the night as fishing boats dock and unload small boxes. These are then rushed on taxi bikes to hotels and restaurants, with most of the catch sold or eaten shortly after its capture.

Many of the fishermen whom I spoke to during my stay were not fishing to sell their product at market but rather to supply a particular vendor or restaurant with a specific species with a high value.

This pattern of fishing is heavily linked with the development of tourism on the island, as restaurants have sprung up to cater for the growing mass of global tourists.

The traps allow small fish to escape, so only a small amount of bycatch is brought to the surface. Fishermen said the sparse bycatch is used at home or as bait for other traps. On one hand, this type of fishing allows for much more selective exploitation of particular species and has led to the overfishing of some of the more prized eating fish, such as groupers and snappers. Also, despite its perceived environmental credentials as a passive, non-evasive fishing method, recent research has shown a negative effect on the reef itself, with studies showing the physical damage that traps can inflict upon corals as they are dropped and later pulled across the reef [2]. Climate change adds further pressure, affecting reef ecosystems and creating challenges for both local fishing communities and the growing tourism industry.

The author documenting some of sea life at the reef off the Island of Koh Haa lagoon, Mu Ko Lanta National Park (Thai: อุทยานแห่งชาติหมู่เกาะลันตา), Krabi Province, Thailand. © Paul Montgomery

The connection between coral reefs and local fishing communities is not only vital to Thailand’s economy and food security, but also deeply woven into daily life along the Andaman Sea coastline.

Many families rely on fishing both for their livelihoods and to supply local and international markets. Yet this way of life exists within a complex web of ecological and administrative pressures. Speaking with fishermen through my interpreter, I saw firsthand the frustration and disillusionment that arise from navigating quotas, regulations, and changing environmental conditions. Many struggle to understand decisions made in the provincial capital while trying to provide for their families, even as their lives remain closely linked to the rhythms of the sea. These communities live in a symbiotic relationship with the coral reefs, shaped by centuries of knowledge and tradition. My time in Thailand often reminded me of the fishing and seafaring families I watched as a boy in Bullock Harbour in Ireland: despite differences of place and culture, the connection between people and the sea remains strikingly familiar.

References

[1] Satapoomin  U, Chawanon  K. The Small scale Reef Fishery at Phuket Island, Thailand Andaman Sea Coast. COASTAL OCEANS RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT IN THE INDIAN OCEAN.:285.

[2] Suebpala, W., Yeemin, T., Sutthacheep, M., Pengsakun, S., Samsuvan, W., Chuenpagdee, R. and Nitithamyong, C., 2021. Impacts of fish trap fisheries on coral reefs near Ko Mak and Ko Kut, Trat province, Thailand. Journal of Fisheries & Environment, 45(1).