The sudden appearance of MSX, a parasitic disease previously unseen in Maritime waters, has shaken New Brunswick’s oyster industry to its core. Standing on the weathered dock at L’Étang-du-Nord wharf on the Îles-de-la-Madeleine, I watch Marcel Doiron inspect his latest oyster harvest with visible concern.
“We’ve never seen anything like this before,” says Doiron, a third-generation oyster farmer who has worked these waters for over 25 years. “One day the beds look fine, then suddenly you’re pulling up dead or dying oysters by the dozens.”
The parasite, formally known as Haplosporidium nelsoni, was detected in Maritime oysters last month, triggering immediate alarm throughout coastal communities where oyster cultivation represents both cultural heritage and economic livelihood. The disease can kill up to 90 percent of infected oysters, though it poses no risk to human health.
For communities like Bouctouche, where the annual oyster festival draws thousands of visitors, the timing couldn’t be worse. “This isn’t just about lost income,” explains Denise LeBlanc, who coordinates the festival. “These oysters tell our Acadian story. They’re part of who we are.”
Scientists at the Atlantic Veterinary College are working around the clock to understand how MSX reached Canadian waters and how quickly it might spread. Dr. Sarah Mitchel, who leads the college’s shellfish health team, believes warming ocean temperatures may have created favorable conditions for the parasite.
“The Gulf of St. Lawrence has warmed at nearly three times the global average,” Mitchel explains during a tour of her lab, where rows of oyster samples await analysis. “What we’re seeing fits with predicted climate change impacts on marine ecosystems.”
Data from Fisheries and Oceans Canada shows the Gulf’s average temperature has increased by 1.8°C since the 1980s, creating conditions that favor parasites previously limited to more southern waters. This matches broader patterns documented by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, which has identified shifting marine disease boundaries as a consequence of warming oceans.
The economic implications are staggering. New Brunswick’s oyster industry generates approximately $45 million annually and supports over 200 direct jobs, according to provincial fisheries data. For small coastal communities already struggling with the decline of traditional fisheries, this new threat feels existential.
I visited Roger Martin’s oyster processing facility in Caraquet last week, where workers were packaging significantly fewer oysters than normal. “We’re down about 40 percent already,” Martin told me as we walked between sorting tables where employees examined each oyster with practiced precision. “If this gets worse, I don’t know how many of these jobs we can save.”
Indigenous communities have particular cause for concern. For the Mi’kmaq of Elsipogtog First Nation, oysters represent both sustenance and ceremony. Chief Candice Paul invited me to join a community gathering where elders discussed the situation.
“Our people have harvested these waters for thousands of years,” Elder Joseph Augustine told the circle. “The oyster teaches us about resilience and adaptation. Now we must learn from it again.”
While the immediate outlook appears grim, coordinated response efforts are underway. The Maritime Fishermen’s Union has established an emergency task force, working alongside university researchers and provincial officials to monitor spread patterns and test potential mitigation strategies.
Dr. Elizabeth Cooper at the University of Prince Edward Island believes selective breeding might offer a path forward. “Some oyster populations in the American Northeast have developed resistance to MSX after years of exposure,” she explains. “We’re exploring whether we can accelerate that process here.”
I spoke with Cooper as she collected samples from apparently healthy oysters in affected beds. Her team hopes these survivors might hold genetic keys to MSX resistance. The work is painstaking but essential.
The crisis has prompted unprecedented cooperation between traditionally competitive oyster farming operations. At a crowded meeting hall in Shediac last Thursday, I watched farmers who rarely share information openly exchange observations and techniques.
“We’re all in this together,” said Jean Arsenault, who has farmed oysters in Cocagne Bay for two decades. “Either we solve this together, or we all go down.”
Provincial officials have implemented movement restrictions to prevent the parasite’s spread to unaffected areas. While necessary, these measures further strain already struggling operations.
For consumers, the impact remains minimal for now. MSX does not affect the safety of oysters for human consumption, and supply chains have adapted by sourcing from unaffected areas. However, price increases seem inevitable if mortality rates continue climbing.
Back at L’Étang-du-Nord, Marcel Doiron tells me he remains cautiously hopeful despite everything. “My grandfather survived the great hurricane of ’63 that destroyed every boat in the harbor. My father rebuilt after the processing plant fire in ’89. We’ll find a way through this too.”
As the sun sets over the harbor, casting long shadows across the water, I’m struck by the resilience of these coastal communities. They have weathered storms both literal and figurative before. The question isn’t whether they’ll survive this latest challenge, but how the landscape of Maritime oyster farming might be transformed in the process.
What’s certain is that the race to understand and combat MSX will shape the future of an industry that has defined Atlantic Canada’s coastal identity for generations. The story of Maritime oysters is still being written, one careful harvest at a time.
