It does not settle down. The albacore is the wanderer of the
tuna world. It holds a passport full of stamps. It has done more travelling than most people. It has seen more of the Pacific Ocean than anyone ever will. And it did it all with nothing but a streamlined body, a pair of absurdly long pectoral fins and an instinct to follow warm water across thousands of kilometres. A fish that is always on the move.
It looks like a smaller, sleeker version of the
yellowfin tuna. The back is dark metallic blue. The belly is silvery. Those famously long pectoral fins sweep back past the dorsal fin. That is why some call it the longfin. The body is
pure speed. It is smooth, muscular and perfectly tapered for chasing down squid and small fish in the open ocean. It feeds in surface schools. This often attracts seabirds and dolphins that know a free meal when they see one.
Off the west coast of the North Island, summer brings albacore into the Tasman Sea. Recreational anglers troll the blue water. They hope for a strike. When it comes, it is fast and hard. This is not a fish that gives up easily. The fight is brief but intense.
Fresh albacore, grilled or seared, is excellent. The flesh is firm and pale with a clean flavour. But most of what New Zealand catches gets exported. It is turned into canned white
tuna. This is the fancy stuff that costs more than the dark skipjack version. The local catch rarely stays local.
The Tasman Sea is blue. The albacore swims. Long fins sweep. It chases squid. The lure drops. The fish strikes. It fights. It loses. It becomes canned
tuna. It does not know it is fancy. It does not know it is exported. The process is industrial.
It is already halfway across the Pacific. It chases the next warm current. The albacore does not care about any of that. It just wants to swim. The ocean is vast. It keeps going.