Though it it less an art than it is an intrinsic way of life handed down over thousands of years of generations.

According to pakana man and Tasmanian Aboriginal Centre heritage worker Adam Thompson, it's even more.

For him it is about being able to sustain that culture, build on what was left for him and to teach identity.

"It's been in our diet since the beginning of time," he said.

"It's there going back to our earliest history, and it's still there through to today."

Mr Thompson speaks with a certainty afforded to him through visceral connection with his culture fostered through a dedication to knowledge.

Mutton fish are abalone - known as nitipa for blacklip abalone or makarina for greenlip in palawa kani.

The relationship between the salt water mollusc and the Tasmanian Aboriginal people is undeniable.

"We know [our tribal people] ate abalone. They had stories and songs about abalone, about harvesting and collecting them and eating them," Mr Thompson said.

Across the North coast and Northern Tasmanian islands relics of that relationship are apparent.

Near Sisters Beach in the Rocky Cape National Park caves were once littered with thousands of mutton fish shells after having been feasted on once harvested from the nearby waters.

Along with the mutton fish shells, limpets, mussels and periwinkles cascaded from the rocks down into the caves and back into the water from where they once came.

On the far west coast, past Zeehan, at Trial Harbour and near the Devonport bluff rock carvings in caves depicted the shells of nitipa and makarina.

Middens - vast collections of mutton fish shells captured by the sands of time - existed on Hunter Island, just of the North West tip of lutruwita.

Animal bones were described as being carved in a way that made the extraction of mutton fish from rocks more simple. And descriptions of wood carved in a similar way but described as a "spatula" are long documented.

Mr Thompson said documentation meant little when the reality was mutton fishing had been around for thousands of years. For him, their contemporary significance was equally important.

"You only have to look at the abalone shells that are in the middens on the coast lines to see that it has formed part of our diet ... you only have to go through the oral histories we've done with our elders and them talking about their childhood," Mr Thompson said.

"When our elders talk about growing up on the islands, it was a big part of just being out and about on the weekend. They'd be out on the weekend and nobody would be going back home for lunch - they could just get food while they were out there."

Mr Thompson said it was passing down mutton fish knowledge to kids and seeing them learning about who they had come from that was the most important part of the practice.

In his role with the TAC Mr Thompson said he was routinely able to afford the opportunity to the younger generation of Tasmanian Aboriginal children.

"In March we had a community camp at Preminghana and we did a day trip out to another area of land," he said.

"We had a whole heap of kids and we would go in the water and have a bit of a dive. "Then we brought the mutton fish back and we made a little fire out of driftwood on the beach and cook them in the shell and cut them up and we all had to feed."

Mr Thompson said being able to share the experience of sourcing and cooking mutton fish led to an all round experience for the children.

"To see the kids experiencing the whole thing from learning about the mutton fish and the history, to helping to collect them and get them off the rocks and then cooking them and how long you leave them in the fire for, how you clean them and then cut them off," he said

"The whole thing, the history there that holistic approach."

Historical accounts of how mutton fish were harvested show parallels between Mr Thompson's camp account and how generations before him did the same.

Tasmanian Aboriginal women once were accompanied by their daughters and other children to harvest the mutton fish.

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Owing to a long-term resilience from completing the practice, the women were able to hold their breath for extensive periods of time while they fished the nitipa or makarina from the rocks holding them and placed them into woven baskets hanging from their necks.

Mr Thompson said being able to offer a similar experience to children meant Aboriginal culture was able to stay strong in Tasmania.

"It's important to have organisations like the TAC who place a real emphasis on culture and tradition for the kids with our activites," he said. "There's real pressure on Aboriginal people in today's society to assimilate."

He said being away from culturally significant activities like mutton fishing meant the knowledge could be lost.