At 5:00 AM, long before the sun has risen over the Chesapeake Bay, Luke McFadden begins his day. Navigating the dark waters from Bodkin Point, Maryland, McFadden steers his boat, the FV Southern Girl, out of the creek and into the expansive Chesapeake Bay. This body of water, stretching over 200 miles from Maryland’s northernmost tip down to southern Virginia, forms the backbone of the Mid-Atlantic region’s economy and has served as the workplace for generations of fishermen, known locally as “watermen.”
For McFadden, crabbing is not just a job—it’s a calling. “Being a crabber is all I’ve ever wanted to do,” McFadden remarks, as he surveys the dozens of metal crab traps waiting to be baited and set across the bay. At 28 years old, he stands as one of the youngest watermen continuing a tradition that dates back more than 400 years. Unlike many in the industry who inherit their profession, McFadden has no family lineage in crabbing. His love for the trade began as a child, saving up money from birthdays and chores to buy his first rowboat at the age of 11. By 18, McFadden had already committed to crabbing full-time, a passion that has only grown over the past decade.
The Chesapeake Bay, the largest estuary in the United States, is home to more than 3,600 plant and animal species. Yet, the blue crab—scientifically known as Callinectes sapidus, or “beautiful savory swimmer”—stands out as the region’s most iconic catch. Harvested from April through November, Chesapeake Bay blue crabs are celebrated nationwide for their sweet, buttery flavor, a result of the fat reserves they build up during their winter hibernation. Crabbing is not only a cultural symbol of Maryland but also a crucial component of the state’s $600 million annual seafood industry.
Despite its significance, the tradition of watermen is under threat. In the 1990s, nearly 10,000 licensed watermen plied the waters of the Chesapeake Bay. Today, fewer than half remain, with many being driven out by aquaculture and the processing of fish into oils and supplements. Additionally, the average age of a waterman is now around 60 years old, making McFadden an outlier—not just because of his age, but because of his unusual rise to fame on social media.
McFadden’s TikTok account, where he shares snippets of his life as a crabber, has amassed an impressive 1.7 million followers. His videos range from demonstrations on how to eat a crab to insights into the trials and tribulations of running a small business. What started as a way to sell his crabs directly to customers has turned into a platform that shines a spotlight on the Chesapeake Bay and the ancient tradition of crabbing. “To me, it’s just day-to-day life,” McFadden says, “but I get it: it’s an obscure job.”
McFadden’s authenticity and relatable demeanor have made him a sensation. His Maryland drawl, comedic timing, and genuine love for crabbing resonate with viewers, making him an unexpected ambassador for a fading way of life. “I think what appeals to people is his authenticity. The Luke you see on screen is the same one you would meet in real life,” says Lindsey, his wife. The appeal of McFadden’s content lies in its portrayal of the daily grind, a reality that many people face but seldom see represented on screen.
However, McFadden’s rise to fame has not been without its challenges. The tight-knit community of watermen initially viewed his online presence with suspicion. “A lot of people are crabbers because they don’t want to be bugged. Most are very private, so I think they wondered why I was doing it,” McFadden explains. “And it’s a cutthroat industry—there’s no room for part-timers.” Over time, though, his peers have come to respect his dedication to crabbing and his commitment to preserving the industry.
Today, McFadden is expanding his business by shipping crabs nationwide and operating a crab stand called Bodkin Point Seafood in Glen Burnie, Maryland. But the physical demands of crabbing are taking a toll. “I’m in my 10th year of running my own boat, and I’ve never done anything but physical labor,” McFadden admits. “I’m only 28, but I’m starting to feel it physically.” The grueling work involved in crabbing—hauling heavy crates of bait, pulling up traps, and shaking them out—has contributed to the decline in the number of young watermen entering the profession.
The future of Maryland’s crabbing heritage is uncertain, with many veteran watermen like Jeff Harrison acknowledging that they may be the last in their families to make a living from the bay. Harrison, a fifth-generation waterman from Tilghman Island, has worked on the Chesapeake Bay full-time since the 1970s. “I have three sons, and none of them have followed me into the profession,” Harrison says. Like many others, he has seen the challenges of climate change, pollution, and invasive species impact the bay’s ecosystem, leading to declining crab numbers.
In addition to environmental challenges, the financial barriers to becoming an independent waterman are steep. The costs of boats, equipment, crew, and rising prices for fuel, metal, bait, and labor make it difficult for newcomers to enter the industry. Increased regulations have further compounded the difficulties, with watermen now limited in the number of bushels of crabs and oysters they can catch and the number of days they can fish each week.
Despite these challenges, McFadden remains committed to the tradition of crabbing. He collaborates with photographer Jay Fleming, whose book Working the Water documents the lives of Chesapeake Bay watermen, to educate the public about the local ecosystem and raise funds for maritime museums. McFadden’s social media presence, while bringing attention to crabbing, is just one part of his efforts to preserve this way of life.
As McFadden continues to share his story with millions online, he hopes to change the perception of commercial fishermen in the United States. “I’m trying to change the perception of the commercial fisherman in the United States,” he says. “So if people get invested in my story, that’s great, because someday if my kids decide they want to be crabbers, I hope they can.”
In the end, McFadden knows that the future of crabbing in Maryland rests not just on the shoulders of watermen like himself, but on the broader community’s understanding and support of this centuries-old tradition. Whether through TikTok or hands-on education, McFadden is determined to ensure that the legacy of the Chesapeake Bay’s watermen endures for generations to come.
