Tribute To A Crab

Sally Lightfoot Crabs (Grapsus Grapsus)

These are not the real crabs but molted shells which previously belonged to crabs. When my children were younger, we used to go for early morning walks and come home with these so fragile shells. If we found them in the shade most would still be damp. I found out that the opening from where the live crab walked out, or crept out, this opening was of two different shapes. I reckoned one must belong to male while the other was of the female crab. Perhaps the egg cavity made the difference. This exit point was like a bag with a flap, and left open when the occupant crept out! I used white wood glue to fix these openings and when dried it looked just natural, as if a human hand never intervened! This was a pleasant surprise; learning to ' fix' the exit points of the crabs!

What fascinated me was that this was a hobby where all are winners. These were not dead crabs that had foul smell, nothing of that sort. Just discarded shells, and they never cease to delight whoever sees them.

When I searched the Web for some information on this delightful creature I found out that Darwin himself collected this species! ( did he leave anything ;-) ?) Access Luggage was not yet coined perhaps?

But I cannot hide my amusement when I learnt that the American novelist John Steinbeck (Pulitzer & Nobel Prize winner/ East of Eden, Grapes of Wrath, Of Mice & Men) had written about this 'lowly crab' in such a delightful way. Isn't it amazing how these writers can describe something mundane, we have seen so many times, and when they describe these trifles we are so enchanted with what they have written? I shall quote few sentences from his non fiction book "The Log From The Sea of Cortez" :

'' Many people have spoken at length of the Sally Lightfoots. In fact, everyone who has seen them has been delighted with them. The very name they are called by reflects the delight of the name. These little crabs, with brilliant cloisonne carapaces, walk on their tiptoes, They have remarkable eyes and an extremely fast reaction time. In spite of the fact that they swarm on the rocks ............, they are exceedingly hard to catch. They seem to be able to run in any of four directions; but more than this, perhaps because of their rapid reaction time, they appear to read the mind of their hunter. They escape the long-handled net, anticipating from what direction it is coming. If you walk slowly, they move slowly ahead of you in droves. If you hurry, they hurry. When you plunge at them, they seem to disappear in a puff of blue smoke—at any rate, they disappear. It is impossible to creep up on them. They are very beautiful, with clear brilliant colors, red and blues and warm browns............

Man reacts peculiarly but consistently in his relationship with Sally Lightfoot. His tendency eventually is to scream curses, to hurl himself at them, and to come up foaming with rage and bruised all over his chest. "

This is how Steinbeck describes one of his colleagues repeatedly failed attempts at catching these tiny acrobats! " Thus, Tiny, leaping forward, slipped and fell and hurt his arm. He never forgot nor forgave his enemy. From then on he attacked Lightfoots by every foul means he could contrive and a training in Monterey street fighting has equipped him well for this kind of battle). He hurled rocks at them; he smashed at them with boards; and he even considered poisoning them. Eventually we did catch a few Sallys, but we think they were the halt and the blind, the simpletons of their species. With reasonably well-balanced and non-neurotic Lightfoots we stood no chance." : - )

My Youngest Nephew Hamdh & I

This photo was taken on the terrace of our home. Hamdh is my youngest sister's youngest and only son. Bending and trying hard to focus on the image seen through the little boy's eyes is the photographer/writer of this blog. Hamdh is the typical high octane energized eight year old we are all familiar with. I still cannot believe how I was able to make him stand still for the duration of this photo! The shutter speed may be sixtieth of a second and that could be the longest nanno second of his 'whole' life. I am pleasantly surprised at the clarity of my image and especially the top part of our house seen so clearly here. Thanks to the model.

Tribute To Nature

RELUCTANT TO LEAVE

To belong, is one of the basic instincts of all living creatures. “Be different, and you shall be noticed”, may appeal to Rock Stars and Prize Fighters in their prime. But most mortals want to be hugged and embraced. To be loved and taken under the wings of a compassionate and caring person. Many want to mingle, dissolve and be one with loved ones. Fish form schools, other creatures swarm or flock while humans congregate, all in dire need to belong and be a huge One.

Parting with our dear friends and family is a daily heartache; thankfully some goodbyes are soon followed by a hearty ‘Hello’ and a big hug that will ease the sadness. When it is time to leave, we all hesitate, we linger and try to hold on, a moment more, an extra month, another term in office, till we see our children’s children or perhaps their children, only till the next project, next venture. For, what we know is sweet or comforting and what we do not know is often scary.

The dead leaf above has completed only half of its duty: produced food and energy for the tree, protected the young and fragile leaves at tender stages and given shade and cool by catching millions of ocean breezes. New leaves that kept on nudging and pushing till the final shove need to sprout from this withering leaf’s footings! Fallen half way, it’s reluctant to leave, failing to start another part of its cycle. It has to touch Mother Earth and be of use to the ground that once held her high and lofty. Compost is yet another name for selfless volunteer work, community and charity functions- unseen perhaps, thankless often, but one does not always serve from the very top!

Philosophers will re arrange words of wisdom, artists will mix their hues and preachers will change sermons, but . . . . . . . . . . . we are all reluctant to leave!