Now that's what I call a crab! We found two horseshoe crabs, on on the sand and one on these rocks. Both were alive; the one on the rocks here clung to the rocks when I checked to see if he was alright. (He? She?)
I've always been a little fuzzy on whether the horseshoe is good luck when it faces up or when it faces down.
Sheila and Tom remarked that the crab was heavier than you might expect--a lot of weight in the shell. I wasn't 100% sure we should relocate the crab; I thought if it was happy sunning itself in the sand, we should leave it alone. (I grew up watching Star Trek, and I internalized the Prime Directive about not interfering in other cultures.) Sheila, who claimed she was a crab whisperer, said it was unhappy and getting dry in the sun, and we should rescue it.
When it got put down again, it seemed happy enough and started wriggling. Also, it didn't clamp on to anyone's face and stick a thingy down their throat to start laying eggs, so I suppose the expedition was a success.
Sheila communing with her new friend.
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