Does human fishing make lobsters picky?

So, lobsters from the preserve attack (not all of them but around 4 out of 10).  Cool they don’t do that on the mainland.  That much we know.  But now we are wondering, maybe there is something magic about Catalina Island, or this general region.  Maybe something else makes lobsters attack.  We really need to try lots of lobsters OUTSIDE the preserve and see if they attack.

 So, a couple of nights ago we presented sea hares to lobsters less than a mile outside the Preserve. The night started inauspiciously.  Dark as pitch, heading to the reef marker, anchored a bit beyond it.  Anchor holds, turn off engine.  Quiet.  Dark.  Lonely.  Lots of current.  No reachable shoreline.  No way do I want to go into that cold black sea.  Let’s go back to Siwash and get a good night’s sleep.  Drink a glass of wine, and eat a chunk of 70% chocolate. 

 NO, goddamnit, we have a question, a burning question.  We think lobsters out here aren’t hungry.  We think that all that fishing pressure means that there are so much fewer lobsters than in the preserve that they never deplete the available tasty food (snails, urchins, mussels).  Why eat an unpalatable sea hare, when you’ve got plenty of other snacks? 

 But here’s why this question burns.  A day before, we dove this very same reef and were surprised to find shitloads of lobsters; just as many as we find in the Preserve a scant kilometer away.  Seems like shitloads of lobsters should knock down the food out here too. Maybe these lobsters are hungry and will eat sea hares.  Is that possible? This question makes me nervous.  Maybe we got this story wrong.  I hate science.  Doing science makes me soooo nervous.  What if the lobsters chomp on the sea hares wherever we see greater numbers?  What if this whole damn trip is misguided? Plagued by doubt.  I’ve been here before.  I can tell myself that your science sucks if you can’t put your hypothese at risk.  Tell myself over and over.  But somehow I’m still really nervous.

 Just before going over the side, John notices that his mask broke, probably when we loaded our gear.  Rats.  Ok.  Take off the tanks, pull up the anchor, zoom back to the dock, get an extra mask, then zoom back into the darkness to the reef.  The tide is ebbing now.  The current will be stronger.  Oh well, lets do it.  In we go.