Bruno echoed those sentiments: "I eat less and waste none. I believe that it is an ethic needed in America, where as a culture, we eat far too much animal protein, waste too much and suffer from an obesity epidemic."
He said he'd rather confront the animal he would eat in its home, learn its behaviors and take it singlehandedly from a healthy ecosystem than buy "packaged, industrially mass-produced meat."
The day's light was fading. We had spent hours off Catalina, and everyone began moving toward the boat. I hung back, cold but disappointed I hadn't made a catch. Then I saw another opal eye, large and alone. For a moment I thought I'd leave him be as he swayed with the current.
But I decided this was my one last shot. The gun popped, the strength of the gun jolting me backward. I thought I'd missed, the fish disappearing from my sight, but then I saw a frantic wiggle moments later beneath me.
Bruno was swimming fast toward me.
"You got him!" he said as he joined me, methodically pulling the spear out from the water.
Bruno recommended fish tacos for the opal eye. And he said his boys, 3 and 5, are already practicing to join him by holding their breath for as long they can in the bathtub before reaching for a toy and emerging from the water exclaiming, "I caught a halibut!"
As much as he loves it, Bruno said he's conflicted about spearfishing becoming too popular, making the waters crowded and threatening respect for the ecosystem.
"It is one of the inevitable downfalls of the evolution of anything that relies upon a finite resource," he said.
But at the same time, spearfishing with a sense of respect and gratitude can change people's lives, he said.
"To be afforded this intimate glimpse at what happens in that world is a gift that I am thankful for," he said, "and that I love to share with others."