The first rule of geoduck is you don't talk about geoduck. Well, OK, you can talk about it, but for crying out loud, don't pronounce it "gee-oh duck" like some out-of-stater who doesn't know a bivalve from a biplane. If you must speak the name of the Pacific Northwest's most exotic creature, give it its official pronunciation: "gooey-duck."
Better yet, call it what the locals do. The wader-clad, shovel-toting faithful who scour the shallows for fun and profit only need one small syllable to describe their enormous quarry: To them, it's a 'duck.
The geoduck (the name is thought to be derived from a Native American word for the clam) is one of the strangest creatures you're likely to come across. The world's biggest burrowing clam resides almost exclusively in Washington State's Puget Sound, its habitat ranging from the tidal shallows to water several hundred feet deep. An adult 'duck weighs a good two pounds, and some have officially tipped the scales at over seven. (Local shell-fish stories have the beasts growing up to 20 pounds).
One of the odder facts of geoduck life is the fact that they live a remarkably long time, routinely making it to the century mark. (Geoducks grow a new shell layer every year, and these layers can be counted like tree rings to determine age.) The oldest known geoduck was one caught near Vancouver Island at the age of 146.
We say longevity is just one of the clam's stranger aspects, because frankly, age is not the first thing you notice when you unearth one of these behemoths of the beach. What the observer first notices is the creature's long, long, really long (we're talking up to 39 inches here) neck. Unlike some clams, the geoduck has no hope of retracting this awesome, um, appendage all the way back into its shell. Instead, the young clam spends several years slowly burrowing ever deeper into the bottom of the ocean as its neck grows straight up, the tip always at, or just above, the surface of the sandy bottom.
It's this neck that makes the 'duck such a delicacy. Cooked, it makes serviceable chowder, and you only need one to make a huge batch. But the homely creature's real claim to fame, and the reason it is so sought after, is that it makes excellent sushi. Geoduck is especially popular in Asia, where the meat can sell for up to $30 per pound.
It's not easy money, however, even for the professionals. To protect against over-harvesting, commercial geoduck hunters are restricted to a zone where water is between 18-70 feet deep, which requires serious cold-water scuba gear, not to mention high-pressure hoses to blast the clams out of their hiding places.
If you're interested in finding some of your own, you can legally do that during the late spring/early summer season. Just don’t expect to make a relaxing day of it. As a sport hunter, you can harvest them directly from the beach, but you'll need to wait for a day with an extra-low tide, when you're more likely to catch one with its neck poking up like a periscope. When you see one, dig. Dig like crazy. Geoducks burrow far too slowly to actually escape from you, but they can retract their necks enough to make it look as though that's what they're doing. Remember that your prey may be as much as three feet down, so this may take a while.
One other thing to watch out for: Make sure shellfish gathering is permitted at the beach you choose. In recent years the waters of Puget Sound have seen increasing numbers of red tide blooms. These algae infestations are natural, but fill clams and other marine life full of toxins that can be fatal to humans. You should see signs posted if red tide renders a beach unfit for 'duck hunting, but call the 24-hour PSP (paralytic shellfish poisoning--we're not kidding about this) hotline at (800) 562-5632 to be sure.•
