The Pleasures of Pleasure Bay

This is basically just a self-indulgent blogpost about hermit crabs.

I am currently living near Boston. 

Just southeast of Boston is Pleasure Bay.

The water isn’t the warmest for swimming, but it makes for a refreshing dip.

Maybe it should be called Displeasure Bay.

I had gone a couple times before and nothing bothered my feet.

Then recently I went with my brother.

As we were standing out in the cool water, he suddenly jumped and said, “Ah! Something touched my foot.” And began quickly going back to shore.

Not having felt anything, I thought maybe it was seaweed or something drifting around on the bottom.

But then something definitely alive crawled on my foot and I also jumped.

We stayed a little longer, but found it hard to relax without knowing who was tickling us.

A week or two later I returned to get to the bottom of the mystery.

As I was walking in, I paid close attention to the ground under the water.

It didn’t take long before my eyes fell upon some movement.

There were what appeared to be rocks moving around.

Upon closer inspection, the rocks had legs.

It was then that I realized who our curious friends had been.

A bunch of hermit crabs live there, and I mean a bunch. 

And as soon as they saw my feet, they started coming closer.

I had a pet hermit crab growing up, so I “knew” that they were harmless because I used to let them crawl on my hand.

But something about being in an unknown environment made me think that maybe these guys weren’t so friendly.

I stood still to see what would happen.

I peered down towards my feet in the sandy, rocky dirt.

Soon a hermit crab reached my left foot and stuck out one leg to touch me.

It did tickle. Feet are especially sensitive.

Then they crawled on and over my toes sideways. No pinching. No pain.

It was soon on its way, its curiosity satisfied.

This happened a few more times and each time I felt a bit of apprehension, but then I relaxed.

The experience got me thinking.

Here I was, coming into their habitat, their ecosystem, and worrying and complaining about them living there.

They were doing the natural thing by checking out who this new person was in their home.

That’s all.

Once I realized that, I allowed myself to live in symbiosis with them.

I paid more attention to where my feet were going because I didn’t want to step on one.

Imagine someone coming into your house, stepping on you, and then asking why you are there!

Think about how regular of an interaction this is.

Two or more creatures coming in contact with each other and trying to “figure out” the other.

Who are you? And what are you doing here?

That’s about as daily as walking into a store or a restaurant.

I am a customer looking to purchase a new pair of pants.

I am a patron looking to eat your delicious cuisine.

I am a tourist wanting to see the beautiful landscape.

I then thought about all the creatures that go unnoticed.

The relationship between humans and nature has historically been one of dominance.

Maybe that’s partly because of our myopia, our short sightedness.

I can walk blissfully into an environment, not knowing about or caring about what lives beneath me.

But once you know who lives there, you are more inclined to care.

I was.