Crabby at the beach

Oh, not me. I was feeling great. Are you kidding? I was lolling around in the sun-warmed sand on what must be one of Florida's most spectacular beaches at Fort DeSoto Park. The joy of wearing a bathing suit in the middle of January was more than enough to make up for the sand in my sandwich, and the luke warm tea, in which ice was a fleeting dream of the past. The sand, by the way, was glorious. Milky white, with the slightly powdery consistency of finely milled salt.

I decided to go exploring. In retrospect, bringing my sandals along turned out to be a wise choice. I crested the little dunes and walked away from the gulf side, winding my way through the dense thicket toward a small inland bay, hoping to catch a glimpse of some egrets or other wading birds. As I neared the bay, I noticed that the soft sand started to give way to slightly squishy slime, and the surface was pocked with innumerable holes.

As my shadow poked over one of the small dunes, I noticed a sudden flurry of movement, that stopped me in my tracks nearly hyperventilating, because it resembled the scurrying of cockroaches running from the kitchen light. I moved again. Thousands of small brown shapes ducked. And again. The crusty little bodies moved without fail. I am embarrassed to admit I was too scared to go it alone. I went to fetch my family. By the time I returned with them, I already figured out that the holes I noticed belonged to the thousands of little crabs that like to hang out on the beach. They don't seem to stray far from their little hidey-holes, and as soon as they perceive movement, they duck. Unlike cockroaches, these little guys were really more afraid of me than the other way around, and I became more comfortable walking by them when I realized they would unfailingly disappear underground whenever I came near.

The four of us squatted nearly motionless, barely breathing, waiting for the crabs to appear. They were incredibly hard to see. Gingerly, they would feel their way out of the holes, and move around almost imperceptibly. We'd think they were not coming out, and one of us would make the slightest of moves, and suddenly we'd see a whole sea of them duck for cover.

Eventually, the kids wandered off, followed by dad, and I continued on my way into the little bay in pursuit of birds. I wondered if they perhaps eat these crabs, and, if so, how were they able to catch them? I walked into the shallow water, pleasantly warm after the bracing temperature of the gulf. I idly picked up some pretty spiral shells, but tossed them back into the water, since they still contained their inhabitants.

I briefly studied a small, lifeless crab resting on the sandy bottom, feeling vague regret that the only one that would let me get this close was already dead.

It was then that I spotted a really beautiful shell. It was the kind you often find only fragments of on Florida beaches, their inner spirals exposed. This one was intact.

Surely, it must still be in use, I thought, as I picked it up, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of the lucky homeowner. But what looked back at me was no mollusk.

I gently returned the shell to its former spot and ran to collect my family. The kids, Chris, and even my mom followed, while I assumed an enigmatic expression and evaded their questions: "You'll see..."

But when we got to the shallow bay... it was gone.
"What was it, mom?"
"It was a hermit crab..."

I walked around dejectedly, hanging my head half in regret, and half in hopes of finding the creature again, so I could share it with my kids. After a few minutes of this, everyone was ready to give up. They started back over the dunes. That's when I spotted it again; about eight feet from where I originally saw it, now on dry land.

After we got our fill of his lumbering grace, we agreed to put him back in the water. We thought he could protect himself from the birds, but we wanted to shelter him from the other humans. However, Mr. Crab was clearly done bathing for the day. This was our last glimpse of him as we were walking away:

Comments

[Summer]

I'm so jealous! That looks like fun. Ahh, to be on a warm beachinstead of this cold. LOL

[Heather]

OH!!! I AM SO VERY VERY VERY JEALOUS!!!! Florida is my home. Ok, nevermind the fact that my home is really in Iowa and always has been - THAT was a HUGE mistake! Right family, wrong location!! Have fun and enjoy the sunshine and warmth for me!

[sherri]

That was an awesome story. I felt like I was there with you!

[Meg L]

that's great! Makes me want to go down and visit our in-laws and get warm!

[Laura Serbin]

Ft. DeSoto is one of our favorite places to go!

We were at the beach a few weeks ago and saw many of the same things. I just didn't have enough arms for a camera. I'm so glad that you did!

This is my first visit and I will definitely be back!

[Justyna]

Sadly, today is our last day here... I'll pick up a seashell for each of you!