When I go to the water it happens to be low tide, what wonder! I walk my favorite stretch of pools and beach: where cormorants dip, harbor seals prostrate on rocks, and anemones abound. When the water is at its most withdrawn, when the tides inhale deeply, big pools are formed way out between rocks usually invisible. They are little oceans of their own, sand bottomed, clear and calm. Sea grass sways softly.
A barely dead gumboot chiton lies belly/foot up in a small pool, and hermit crabs diligently dine there, she is meal and table and the gumboot will disappear by tiny clawfull. Ah detrivores, how I admire the scavengers of this (and every) ecosystem. They live like kings and do no harm. I wouldn’t be surprised to find “waste not, want not” hanging cross-stitched on the inside of a crab shell, or behind a bark beetle’s wing.
Under a stone above the water line there is a bright purple rock crab, about the size of my fist. Sneaking my hand around his claws I actually manage to pick him up. Black eyes sit on opposite sides of his body, he seems to grimace, even though he lacks a face, he reminds me somehow of an old sorcerer, maybe he is. I must admit I want to eat him. I get an ancient hungry feeling often at the tide pools; they are teaming with slow moving, high calorie life, that is nearly alledible raw… Today I nearly sucked a limpet right out of its shell.
There are a lot of stranded creatures under the rocks above the water, and when I move I can hear them scuttle to find a safer place, totally unseen. I am picking up trash, but thinking of abalone shells, it is my custom to ask my totem (the sea otter) for a shell or two for my home alter, she usually obliges.
Next to a tin-can-top there is a shiny fragment of abalone, quite lovely, but just a little piece, so I toss it in the water. The water ripples out, and just below the rings there is a beautiful and big abalone the size of my whole hand, sitting plain as day on the sand. Of course it had been cracked by an otter, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. After I scoop it up I find another iridescent shell to my left wedged between two rocks, smaller, but whole. Then in a pool to my right I see another abalone, shiny side down, with a bright turquoise outer shell, which is completely new to me, I have only ever known them to be red or black. Overjoyed by the trinity I try to collect this Holy Ghost, but when I get my hand around it’s shell the abalone sucks down tight to the rock, it is alive, and won’t budge for anything! I can almost feel that playful otter swim up behind me and say “you can’t have it all at once.” So that turquoise abalone sits on its own alter, a future sacrifice, like everyone else.
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