January 2009 Archives

Second Mate Stubb.  Lovable crayfish.  Thoughtful.  Popular.  Compliant.  A willing participant in this alleged ecosystem model at the Seascape Modeling lab.

So it would seem.

I have heretofore discussed the conditions of my residence, and their conduciveness to musing, composition, and self-reflection.  Yet there is more to be gained from my unique position.  While my focus is introspection, I keep one compound eye turned outward at all times.


(The view from my window.)

To what do I bear witness?  My aspiration is twofold.

Firstly, to collect data on the behavior of my keeper.  I maintain a mental record of his feeding schedule, his social behaviors, and his diel and sennightly rhythms.  I have yet to determine whether he is benevolent, but it is clear that he observes me nearly as scrutinously as I him.  In any case, this information will be critical if I am, eventually though not presently, to orchestrate an escape.

Members of his genus are uniquely identifiable both by visage and by scent.  The one who provides my daily sustenance may be referred to as "Nick Record".  Within his social group, his role is to gather and interpret evidence regarding the natural world.  This he appears to do with some success, though his other social functions are carried out awkwardly and with limited skill.

Secondly, his species is invasive to the state of Maine, which I call my home.  To be precise, from what I have thus far gleaned, he himself is a native, but only because of a lineage of invading populations of Homo spp.  Due to hinderances associated with my incarceration in a 37.85 liter tank, I have yet to determine how many Homo species have invaded Maine, but it is manifest that they have exacted incalculable ecological and environmental damage.

Yet these hominids are an iconic and fundamental part of our land--for who among us can utter the phrase "coastal Maine" without conjuring images of this noble and complex creature.  So integral are they to our image of Maine that we scarcely think of them as "from away".  It is a dilemmic and conflicted state of affairs, and therefore I gather as much information as possible regarding these fascinating beasts so that we can better understand their role in our ecosystem, perhaps retaining their benefits while mitigating their damages.

It would be a shame and a great expense to have to eradicate them.

Haddock, haddock, of all the fishes,
To me you are the most delicious!

Amidst your Gulf of Maine migrations,
You like to snack upon crustaceans;

You root us out from under cobble,
Then up our crunchy limbs you gobble;

You glut yourself with scores and dozens
Of my oceanic cousins!

So now I find that in captivity,
A most relished, though macabre activity,

Is, with the aid of my human captor,
To taste revenge that can't be apter:

When the hour has come to sup,
We turn the food chain down-side-up.

Haddock, haddock, of all the fishes,
To me you are the most delicious!

(Note: if the video appears choppy, click it again.)

One might conjecture that, having been plucked from the howling wilderness that is the preservation of our world, this captive crayfish yearns for the vastness and strangeness of nature.  

'tis true that occasionally I pine for the solid sandbanks, which bear fruit even as the merchants and banks founder the world over.  ...The mist that shrouds towers of pines, then breaks, ephemerally, to reveal a glimpse of the choppy white currents, wilder than the jungles of Bengal...  I would prefer that any day over the scurry and gossip of this crowded hub.

However, I have marched through that world, and now I sit, for the time being, to write.  Here in the confines of this ten gallon tank, in this academic cubicle, I find adequate refuge for reflection.  For those of us who have truly been reared on the bosom of nature know that the solid sandbanks can founder too, and indeed collapse.

So I look not to other lands, but rather find eternity in my own domicile.  At first I only hid in my mug, nursing the wounds of past battles, and anticipating perhaps a scrap of food.  Now I find wonders hither and yon--aye, so much so, that when each day ends, I have only just begun my list of endeavors.

Why, just the other day, I discovered this piece of sea glass in the northwest reaches of my realm.  I have handled and examined it again and again, and found a new treasure on each curve and surface.  Perhaps one day I shall return to the wild; for now, I am lost in the infinity of a chunk of sea glass.

Though my muse is antsy to unfurl the long lineage of my own species, and our arrival to the web of rivers and streamlets that crawl across the state of Maine, there are some scientific details that should not be passed over.

Just as one would be remiss and unimaginative to assume that a crayfish cannot blog, accordingly I would not presume that my kind reader is familiar with all the fine points of crayfishdom.  It may be that in certain remote districts, and perhaps on alien worlds, "decapoda" and "astacidea" are not household words.  If you, dear friend, hail from such a district, you might find the following text most informative.

At the risk of being arthropo-centric: we live in a world ruled by arthropods.

Arthropods are those "jointed foot" creatures--like insects, spiders, mites, and lobsters--and we are more numerous than any other phylum of animals.  Our multifarious ranks outnumber all the birds, mammals, fish, reptiles, aye, all the backboned creatures combined.

Among the arthropods are my closer brethren, the crustaceans.  We mostly populate aquatic environments, and we often can be recognized by our exoskeletal shells, which we periodically molt, as I have heretofore related.

Even more akin to myself are the ten-legged decapods--lobsters, crabs, shrimps, and prawns.  Within this group we come to the astacidea and the astacoidea, which is where I shall close this taxonomic lesson.  One could wax on indefinitely, with over one million species of arthropods and countless ranks.  Instead, I shall sum up with the words of a favorite screenwrite: "It's a bug planet!"

Landsmen and inlanders, and those who loiter under the shady lee of yonder warehouses, may be unaware of the infamous history of my name.  Indeed, I am named after a whaler of lore, the first aboard the Pequod to kill leviathan.  And though I would hope not to possess some of his cruder characteristics, I do claim his quick and carefree wit.

A perusal of the literature fails to tell the whole story, however.  Not a few months ago, I was caught unawares by a foe, and in the ensuing battle, lost my right claw altogether.  This, to my embarrassment, rendered the name "Stubb" a more apt and comical designation.

The full account of the duel will follow in a later entry, as will the ultimate fate of my nemesis.  For now, I intend only to educate my readers on the regenerative powers of crustaceans.  You see, my "stub" is growing back quite rapidly.

The two images below show the size of my right claw at my last molt, followed by the size of my right claw at present.  I sometimes pity those species who lack this ability.

I had intended in this entry to acquaint the faithful reader with some of the foundational background knowledge regarding my species.  However, when I awoke this morning, a listless and lethargic condition had overcome me.  Even while my environs were renewed with a fresh supply of water, my body drifted passively with the waves, my legs hanging limp.

This condition, which I deemed at first to be the doldrums of the winter season, turned out to signal a momentous occasion.  In fact, I find my self so excited that I must announce this event before proceeding with any other information: I have molted!

This is my second molt since arriving at this abode, and it feels wonderful.  Truly does it make me appreciate the safety of my haven here, as my soft skin would otherwise render me vulnerable to predation.  Instead, I am free to stretch and squirm and wriggle around, and to fill out my new exoskeleton.  

I have included a picture of the shell that I cast aside.  My apologies for the poor image quality, but I have been too elated today to spend much time on photography.

Greeting my dear reader.  Welcome to the pages wherein the events of my modest life are to be documented.  I've never been one to linger in introductions, so I'll come directly to the meat of it.  My name is Second Mate Stubb, and I presently reside in one of the ecosystem models here at the Seascape Modeling Laboratory. 

Also, incidentally, I am a crayfish.  I was plucked from the wild some time ago, and through untold dangers, I have made my way to this sanctuary.  The accomodations are exquisite, and my leisure time here has offered me the opportunity to document some of the more salient events of my biography.

Furthermore, I hope to engage you, esteemed reader, with some of the anecdotes from my life here, as the subject of an ecosystem model in this fine laboratory.  My life here, while lacking of the thrills of the wild, is replete with provocative day-to-day events and musings.

So I humbly invite you to peruse the pages of my life, even as I compose them.