Coming from a 'fishing family, it was only natural that I liked to fish. Now in some parts of the world, this might mean a family of hearty bearded men and rugged women all of them wearing rubber boots and rain slickers and setting out into gale-force winds on their 50-foot double masted schooner. We were nothing of the sort. Our fishing family consisted of a family of four in a collection of sneakers, life-vests, fishing hats, and a 15 foot reconditioned boat that sometimes tried to sink.
We didn't always have a boat and sometimes even though we had a boat, it was in 'dry dock'. The dry dock was my grandfather's back yard where he and my father tried to figure out how to fix the boat so it wouldn't try to sink. This meant that we often fished from piers and jetties that lined the gulf coast. Of the two, I loved jetty fishing more because even though you had a greater chance of getting your line snagged on some underwater piece of granite, you were closer to the water and also closer to all the various debris left behind by previous fishermen. Things like fish heads and scales as well as snarled fishing line, and if we were very lucky we would find a fishing float. Plus there was always the wildlife which mostly consisted of these weird multi-legged bugs that would scatter like crazy when you came close to them and thank God for that because the very idea of one of those things touching me would send me into spasms of panic. In other words, it was a playground of the sort that seemed to be made with a kid like me in mind.
I can remember one of my earliest fishing trips with my family. I am about four or five years old. We are on a jetty and my parents have some chairs set up to relax in while they wait for something to take hold of a line. The day is calm, which apparently makes it ideal for catching crabs. We have tossed out a line upon which there are tied a series of chicken necks and fish heads weighted down with a rock. Every ten to fifteen minutes we pull in the line slowly and as often as not there will be a blue crab hanging onto one of the pieces of bait. If we are quick with the net that crab will be scooped up and placed into a five-gallon bucket filled partially with water. After a while, there are quite a few crabs of various sizes all trying in vain to escape the bucket. A couple of the crabs are almost too small but I have pleaded to keep them anyway and so to placate me, my parents let me place them in the bucket as well.
My father catches several fish which he places on ice in our cooler but he also catches some less desirable fish that he wants to keep for bait. He throws these baitfish into the bucket with the crabs. This of course delights the crabs who appreciate the fresh food. I am horrified at this. As my family begins to pack up to leave, I stand there transfixed by the ruthless crabs. How dare they attack the fish like that. I begin to yell at the crabs telling them to leave the fish alone. I am very dramatic about it and even shake my finger at them saying "You bad crabs!".
The next thing that occurs seemed to happen in slow motion. One of the little crabs that I had caught is at the top of the crab heap. As I shake my finger over the bucket it sort of crouches down. I see its stalky eyes swivel up toward my hand and then it springs suddenly upward. There is at least a foot and a half of space between my fingers and the crab, but this guy was going for some sort of record. It launched itself upward and grabbed onto my little finger with a vengeance. I jerk my hand up and scream. Little claws or not this guy is clamped on tight and it takes several shakes to dislodge him. I see the little guy go skittering across the rocks and then happily scampering back into the water.
My screams bring my mother running to me but as I tell her what happened she says that crabs cannot jump and "That's what you get for sticking your hand into the crab bucket". I protest and even asked my sister to back me up, but apparently, she had been looking the other way when the crab leap occurred. I run to my father and tell him what happened, but he too is skeptical. "Crabs don't jump," he says. I end up telling the story again and again about what happened and although eventually, they say they believe me, I can tell they are just humoring me.
So be careful out there and to be on the safe side, never lecture a crab.
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