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Tonight I’m leaving to go to the Outer Banks, NC for vacation. Whenever I go south of the Mason Dixon line, particularly to the beach, I think about crabs. No, not the ones you got from that sailor during Fleet Week, I’m talking Callinectes Sapidus (beautiful/savory swimmer) The Blue Crab.

Because I was a marine biology enthusiast and nerd back in high school, I went to Wallop’s Island not once but twice for a class trip. There, we investigated, studied and ate our friend the blue crab. I thought the most interesting place we went to visit was to the soft shell crabbery. There, the newly-molted crabs would meekly sit and wait for their shell to come back, which of course would never occur. Instead, they would be packed a certain way in ice to ensure that they would arrive at their ultimate resting place still alive, soft and delicious. Typically in nature a blue crab would be highly vulnerable during molting and would make a tasty and easy snack for predators. The lady crabs will molt and a strapping young crab dude would come along and protect her and carry her in this fragile state. This seems sweet and almost romantic, until the crab man spawns with her while she’s still getting her shell back then goes his own way. Just like a human man. Dang, I’m salty…just like the Atlantic that I’ll be frolicking in by this time tomorrow.

Note: It’s been a while since high school, so please forgive me if my recollection of the biological details is fuzzy.