Ghost crabs in daylight
Photo by Adrien Stachowiak on Unsplash Finally I am by myself on the beach—not alone though, never alone at this stage in my life—when the ghost crab emerges. Two things stand out about this crab: It is out at 9:30 a.m., and it is thorough. It darts between the enormous hole my husband and son spent their first beach hour of today digging and the petite entranceway it dug for its own tunnels, tossing sand so sharply I can almost hear the "harumph!" At one point it stops near a clump of drying seaweed and swings its claws over it as if knitting a tiny sweater, then leaves the work behind. Occasionally a second, smaller crab pops in and out of the original crab tunnel, more hesitant than the large crab, and I can sense how assiduously the busy crab is ignoring its timid companion. There is work to be done, by gum! Keep a move on. I admire the confidence of the larger one. It defies the side-eyed seagulls pretending not to care but inching ever closer; it ignore...
